


like copper and gold

by ephemeral_afterlight



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (for like one scene), (mild), Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Come Swallowing, Conditioning, Crushes, Deceit Sanders Needs a Hug, Deceit Sanders-centric, Depressed Deceit Sanders, Depression, Dissociation, Dom Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dom/sub, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Hurt Deceit Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, I guess!!, Isolation, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Movie Night, Multi, Mutual Pining, Neutral Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Neutral Logic | Logan Sanders, Nightmares, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Oblivious Deceit Sanders, Oblivious Logic | Logan Sanders, Out of Character, Overstimulation, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Secret Crush, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Starvation, Sub Deceit Sanders, Sub Logic | Logan Sanders, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Deceit Sanders, Unhealthy Relationships, Universe Alteration, Unreliable Narrator, Vibrators, it's resolved by the end tho!, no sad endings here lads!, placio-coded deceit, they're all big dumb gays, those last two tags aren't super graphic or present in the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeral_afterlight/pseuds/ephemeral_afterlight
Summary: The two of them are just too different. One light, one dark; one good, one bad; one beautiful and elegant and creative and strong-willed, one disastrous and abrasive and untrustworthy and self-loathing. The split between them is like a crack in the psyche, a divide in what’s right and wrong. Roman is right, and Deceit is wrong, and everyone knows that a negative and a positive together is still negative. It can’t happen, won’t ever happen, because it’s just not how things are meant to be.It doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, though.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Loceit, Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Logince, Roceit, Roloceit - Relationship
Comments: 142
Kudos: 482
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	like copper and gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nothingcomparedtotheothers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nothingcomparedtotheothers), [MimmyWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimmyWrites/gifts).



> this work is... interesting. it ended up much longer than i originally anticipated, which caused a lot of stress, but it's finished! this is my first time ever writing or posting smut, so hopefully it's not too unrealistic!
> 
> betaed by the lovely [@kitkatzgr8](https://kitkatzgr8.tumblr.com)\-- you're an absolute lifesaver! thank you so much for putting up with my pickiness! i know i didn't leave you tons of time to read through this, but you still came through <3
> 
> this is my gift to [@nothingcomparedtotheothers](https://nothingcomparedtotheothers.tumblr.com)! happy holidays, and hopefully this is close enough to what you asked for!
> 
> (some content warnings: depression, starvation, sleep deprivation, isolation, nightmares, self-hatred/derogatory language towards oneself, mild conditioning, dissociation, lots of cursing, and, of course, explicit sexual themes. additionally, thomas, patton, virgil, and remus aren't unsympathetic but they do act kind of dickish. they don't really understand deceit very well, and although that isn't an excuse for how they treat him, they aren't purposely trying to be mean. they just assumed that deceit has bad intentions and never bothered to check if that was actually true or not. deceit does have the villain aesthetic, sure, but they never tried to look past that and really get to know him, so deceit is not in the wrong here. virgil in particular is talked about as being kind of an asshole, and although the reasoning for that isn't explained here, it may be explored in a sequel if i decide to continue this universe!)

If Deceit is being completely honest, which is in itself an oxymoron, there are very few things that could be offered to him in this world to bribe him into asking Roman if he wants to be in a relationship with him. Having a lot of money doesn’t really matter, since he’s a side and can summon anything he needs, therefore not requiring him to buy anything. And this same ability to summon anything he wants rules out most everything else, too. Except maybe, like, eternal happiness and serenity, or some shit, but nobody can give him that, so… not an option. 

Out of everything Deceit could want, there are plenty of things he knows he can never have. Roman is one of them. One of the simplest and yet most complex pleasures is such an overwhelming desire, a wish that he knows will never be fulfilled. The creative side is out of reach, unattainable in so many ways that it leaves Deceit in the shadow of his own hopeless yearning. 

The two of them are just too different. One light, one dark; one good, one bad; one beautiful and elegant and creative and strong-willed, one disastrous and abrasive and untrustworthy and self-loathing. The split between them is like a crack in the psyche, a divide in what’s right and wrong. Roman is right, and Deceit is wrong, and everyone knows that a negative and a positive together is still negative. It can’t happen, won’t ever happen, because it’s just not how things are meant to be.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, though.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t still want, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have the desire to pull that smug, snarky, gorgeous prince in by his lapels and kiss him breathless. Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t curl up in his window seat at night, looking out at the expansive field under cover of starry night, and dream of laying in that soft grass wrapped around each other. Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still imagine the bliss of waking up in the prince’s strong embrace, long for his caring guidance, ache for his warmth and all-encompassing love.

Deceit knows that hope is a dangerous thing, knows that wishing as he does is a useless venture. Love is something extremely important to Roman, and there’s absolutely no way he’d ever lend any of it to a snake, a _villain_. Despite knowing this as fact, it still sends a dagger through his heart every time the thought crosses his mind, builds a lump in his throat and moistened eyes when he reflects on such a futile, pointless dream.

And yet, even now, even as he has the railing of the stairs in an iron grip while he hides out of sight, even as he overhears Roman informing the other three and Thomas that he and Logan are apparently dating now, he still wants. He wants Roman so badly, wants to be able to kiss him, wants to brag that the prince is _his_ boyfriend. And it’s so selfish, the way he brings a trembling hand up to cover his mouth and stifle his sobs as he retreats back into the darkness of the upstairs hallway. He wants Roman. He’s in love with Roman, and maybe he should have told him sooner, because now it’s too late. Deceit despairs over having missed his chance, even though the reality is that he really never had a chance with him in the first place.

* * *

Having to adjust to Roman and Logan’s relationship is difficult, immeasurably so. There are some days Deceit spends every single moment from morning to night stowed away in his room, crying his eyes out in the corner. Those days are particularly bad, and it’s why the disembodied voices swirl around him and lay their warm yellow touch all over his body with whispered reassurances that have always, _always_ been lies. He knows they are, and yet he eats them up, holds on desperately to those glowing, misty streams of gold because they’re the only comfort Deceit allows himself.

It’s a lot to deal with the first time Deceit rises up in the shared kitchen (the only place that the light sides and the dark sides’ area is connected; a neutral zone) looking to grab a glass of water, only for his heart to leap into his throat as he darts backward to hide behind a wall. It’s taunting when he has to watch dolefully while Roman shares sweet kisses with Logan as he hefts the bespectacled side up to sit on the counter. It’s heartbreaking when Roman brushes a lock of hair behind Logan’s cheek and murmurs declarations of love in the silence of the evening. It’s numbing when the two’s kissing becomes fervent, when they pull each other closer and closer until Logan gasps around a moan and Roman’s eyes darken and he easily picks up a mildly embarrassed and flushed Logan under the thighs as they sink out together. There’s no question of what’s about to happen, and although Deceit knows that realistically, they’ve probably already done much more than make out and grind on each other, it still leaves his head spinning and his limbs buzzing with nervous energy.

Deceit buries his shameful moans and guilty whines into his pillow that night.

Sometimes it’s little things, like seeing them hold hands under the dinner table, or fleeting touches brushed against cheekbones and waists, or the genuine love in their stares. With every thoughtless kiss on the cheek, Deceit shifts and fluctuates between bitter and wistful, sorrow and envy hardened like a rock weighing down his chest. His desire is constantly waging a fruitless war against his common sense, rears its ugly head when he masochistically sits in the shadows and watches them cuddle close to one another. 

There are other small things Deceit notices, much less conspicuous and yet they always hurt just as much. Roman getting up early to spend time with Logan before breakfast, Logan drowning in Roman’s favourite sweaters for comfort when he thinks Roman doesn’t know about it, how they always seem to unconsciously gravitate towards one another no matter where they are. The soft glances, the whispered words, the knowing and hoping and loving.

The noises.

The noises they make on nights like tonight, where Deceit is unwillingly summoned into the shadows of Roman’s room, where he nearly chokes on his own spit when he sees two bodies moving frantically on the bed. He doesn’t have the time to think, doesn’t have the mental fortitude to push aside his surprise and try to figure out what lie was told that pulled his presence away from his late-night stress dissociation. He can’t think, can’t do anything, so he’s left there in the dark corner digging his nails so viciously into his palms they’re likely to leave bruises.

Roman and Logan seem to breathe each other’s sounds in, swallowing up each moan and groan and whine with their lips. Seeing the way Logan leans down from where he’s straddling Roman’s hips, how he tangles his fingers in Roman’s hair harder and harder with every bruising kiss, it’s like a hurricane of envy and longing ripping through Deceit’s body. How he wishes _he_ were in that position, that it was _him_ whimpering and gasping quietly with every snap of Roman’s hips beneath him.

It’s with a sharp intake of breath thankfully concealed by a stray moan that Deceit remembers he can sink out, that he doesn’t have to sit here watching and listening to this in agony, so he quickly takes his leave with burning cheeks. His face and stomach feels hot, and his pants are suddenly very uncomfortable, and the yearning, needy feeling overwhelms him as he falls into his desk chair.

He won’t be weak. Not this time. 

The unrelieved discomfort plagues him for longer than he wants to admit.

* * *

For the two years that Roman and Logan have been together, for the eight that Deceit has been in love with Roman, the last thing he ever expects is for the two of them to approach him just as he’s about to go to bed with their fingers linked. He doesn’t expect that he’d be able to push down that familiar, burning envy long enough to let them into the dark sides’ living room, he doesn’t expect for them to not look afraid as they sit down on the couch across from him, and he certainly doesn’t expect the words that come out of Roman’s mouth next.

“Will you join us for a night? We have been, well, _experimenting_ in bed, and we are curious about having a, uh. A threesome,” Roman explains with embarrassment clear in his tone as he scratches at the back of his neck, unconsciously leaning into Logan’s side for support. Deceit pats himself on the back for being able to conceal the mental screaming and the way he nearly falls off the couch in shock.

“A… a threesome? With _me?_ Why?” Deceit manages to get out through his bewilderment, earning him a sheepish glance from Roman and a neutral stare from Logan. Being on the receiving end of that attention is almost overwhelming, not necessarily in the way that Logan is stronger or more dominant than him (Deceit has seen and heard _far_ too much of their sex life to know that the notion of Logan being dominant in any form is utterly laughable), but more that he just… _sees._ He sees everything, outside and inside and all the way down to your core. It’s like he could easily name all of your darkest secrets, fears, and insecurities at the snap of the fingers, and that in itself might be what Deceit is so afraid of. There are too many secrets that should stay hidden no matter the cost, so Logan is, for lack of a better word, extremely intimidating.

“We have been curious about new ways to engage in sexual relations for quite a while, and I have concluded the best way to figure out our preferences and shared likings is to simply go down the list and try them all. I have done lots of research on how to partake in such activities safely, so that should not be a concern. Ironically, the third item on the list I have compiled is to try a ‘threesome’ as it seems to be called colloquially. Therefore, we have come to ask you to participate,” Logan finishes, pushing his immaculately clean glasses up on the bridge of his nose as almost a small flourish to end his mini-speech. Roman just nods along, leg bouncing nervously as he tries to read Deceit’s carefully blank expression. “If you do not wish to join us, I will respect that, although it would make not being able to cross that particular item off the list… disappointing.”

Deceit swallows minutely and worries his bottom lip between his teeth, mind racing faster than he can keep up with it. There’s no question about the honesty in the two’s statements, their claims of genuinely wanting him to join them. Deceit doesn’t feel that familiar bite, doesn’t taste the bitter chemical-like tang when his forked tongue flicks out to smell the air.

“But why me? Don’t you hate me?” Deceit repeats, eyes narrowed cautiously. “Why not ask Virgil or Patton? You’re friends with them, I’m sure it’d be much **less** comfortable than…”

The snake-like side trails off, furrows his eyebrows in the face of his compulsive lie. Sometimes it’s like he can’t stop it, like it just slips out without a second thought. But other times there’s absolutely nothing to stop the burning truth from spilling out from between his lips, building like rot in his lungs until he has no choice but to purge the shame. Nowadays, his only reprieve is when he sinks down onto his fingers, whines quietly as he imagines that those fingers belong to somebody else. It always helps, sends some of that aching truth caked in his throat packing, but the short-lived freedom gained from him refusing to live a lie only makes way for more guilt.

“Patton? That’s-- _ew,_ that’s so weird to think about! I love the dude, but I wouldn’t, like… have sex with him. I don’t like him like that, he’s just our friend,” Roman wrinkles his nose with an affronted laugh, and his scrunched-up face brings a surprisingly conspicuous amusement to Logan’s demeanour. His hard eyes soften, lend themselves to an easy, endeared shine. Deceit feels dizzy. “And Virgil’s ace, so.”

“Oh,” Deceit mutters, face burning. Why did Virgil never tell him? He knows that they haven’t exactly been on the best of terms for a while, but they did _use_ to be best friends, and things are certainly better now than they were a year ago. Of course Deceit would never force him to tell, would never pressure him into outing himself like that, but is he really so untrustworthy that he feels like Deceit can’t keep a secret, that he can’t even perform his main purpose as a side? Or is it that he just doesn’t think Deceit deserves to know? 

“We don’t hate you, Deceit. Although we have had our differences in the past, neither I nor Roman hold any ill will toward you. Again, you do not have to join us. This is what people refer to as ‘No Strings Attached’, so romantic regards are not present in this situation. Even so, if you still do not wish to join us, we will understand. You do not have to make excuses to get out of it. A simple ‘no’ would suffice,” Logan tells him, blunt and straight to the point. It makes Deceit anxious, makes him feel like he’s walking right into a trap. He knows he should say no, knows that having sex with them is probably the worst possible thing he could do. He knows that this will only complicate his feelings for Roman more, give him a taste of what he can never have. But Logan is surprisingly persuasive even when saying the exact opposite of what Deceit already knows he’ll give into, and he’s always been weak, hasn’t he?

And so he follows them out of his part of the mindscape, up the stairs and through corridors until they are inside Roman’s bedroom and the door is being locked behind him. Roman is already tugging Logan’s shirt off, giving him a short kiss on his neck while the fabric of his button-up slips off pale shoulders. Deceit doesn’t know what to do, so he just stands there awkwardly and bites the inside of his cheek with curious eyes.

Thankfully, Roman seems to notice his uncertainty and saves him from having to stand there and wonder for much longer. The prince tugs on Deceit’s arm, leading him over to sit on the bed beside where Logan is already waiting. His button-up is draped across his elbows, still not having been taken off yet, and a blush forms high on Deceit’s cheeks. He doesn’t like Logan the same way he likes Roman, but he’s not blind. He knows that their resident nerd is attractive-- he always has been-- but the warmth that begins to bloom in his abdomen is still somewhat unexpected.

“C’mon, get undressed. How do you want to do this? Do you top or bottom?” Roman asks excitedly as his white jacket falls to the floor in a heap, his pants joining them soon after. The light dusting of freckles on his shoulders, his strong stature, and the cords of muscle in his thighs seem to all work together to steal Deceit’s breath away. His abs aren’t incredibly defined or prominent, more on the soft side, but they’re still there, and Deceit has the overwhelming urge to run his tongue along each dip and crease.

“I, uh. Um,” Deceit swallows, forcing himself to tear his eyes away long enough to somewhat regain his bearings. He doesn’t want to be honest about this, because he knows it goes completely against what he portrays himself as, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The least he can do for himself is try to enjoy it while it lasts. “I don’t top.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s-- I didn’t expect…” Roman stutters out, surprised but very obviously interested in the concept. His mind seems to run at full speed while he helps to get Logan’s jeans unbuckled and across the room, and it leaves Deceit to take a deep breath as he works up the courage to allow his bowler hat to rest on the bedside table instead of on his head. A noise of appreciation comes from behind him, shaking him out of his stupour.

“Your hair, it’s… kinda curly. It’s not straight like ours?” Roman asks, confused. Deceit’s mouth falls open to speak, but he doesn’t really know what to say. It’s not like he does it on purpose, like he wants to be the odd one out, but apparently Thomas subconsciously decided that Deceit’s hair would be lightly curled. Not very villainous, if you ask him, which is the whole point of wearing the hat in the first place. 

“Interesting. Is it natural, or do you curl it yourself?” Logan asks as Roman shuffles him to sit a little closer. He looks at Deceit like a specimen, like something to be studied and meticulously recorded and catalogued. Deceit doesn’t know if he’s uncomfortable or turned on. There’s a moment when he considers answering, but before a word can come out of his mouth, Logan’s eyes flutter wide and his hips buck up into Roman’s hand. Deceit didn’t even notice the fingers slipping underneath the waistband of Logan’s boxers, and that sharp sting of envy inexplicably rises in his chest.

“We should--”

“Yeah, fuck, I-- Deceit, are you gonna get undressed?” Roman interrupts, almost as breathily as Logan despite him not being the one receiving the attention. It takes a few moments to process the question, his mind filled up with Roman, Roman, _Roman,_ and he ignores the small part of his mind that whispers Logan’s name too. But then his head clears, and reality sinks in, and Deceit remembers himself.

“I… uh, I-- I don’t. My scales, they… they aren’t just on my face,” Deceit stutters out, dissolves into ashamed mumbles, and his fingers twist around each other as he looks at his own lap. The truth tastes sour on his tongue, almost distracts him enough to miss the way the other two go nearly silent apart from soft breathing. “They go all the way down my leg.”

“You having scales is not unarousing, if that is what you are implying,” Logan breaks the silence, the meaning of what he says stunning Deceit to the point of him abandoning his hung head to meet the logical side’s gaze. “We were unsure as to how far your snake-like qualities go, physically, so we prepared ourselves for a number of things. Scales, a forked tongue, a hemipenis-- we have considered all of it already.”

And Deceit doesn’t want to acknowledge how those words cause his face to heat up beyond measurable levels, leaves his mind jumping through its analysis of the admission in an effort to fully understand. It admittedly takes him a few moments to catch up, to calm down, but he’s just immediately sent into near-mortification. “I have scales and-- and the tongue, but not the… that’s normal.”

“Hm. I see. That is quite interesting. You exhibit many physical differences to the rest of us. I’d like to ‘pick your brain’ about such things--” Logan starts, going off into the rambling state he falls into when his train of thought starts to get away from him, but Roman interrupts the words with an ornery stroke just to hear the side next to him gasp in surprise.

“Lo, later. We’re busy right now, hm? Go sit at the top of the bed, please,” Roman tells him as his hand languidly slides underneath Logan’s underwear. The side in question looks vaguely embarrassed with his own small outburst, but is compliant with Roman’s demands anyway. He looks much more subdued when he crawls away to settle against large, plush pillows, not making any move to do much beyond trail his fingers in the curves and dips of his own body. He looks surprisingly serene there, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and it’s such a far cry from the usual behaviour from Logan that Deceit is used to that he doesn’t register Roman’s hands on his collar until his capelet is slipping off of his shoulders and to the carpet.

Deceit’s heterochromatic eyes flick up to meet Roman’s, but the prince’s focus is trained on the clothing instead. His fingers work nimbly at the buttons on Deceit’s shirt, pulling it open when he finally reaches the bottom. The sleeves catch on Deceit’s gloves on their way down, give Roman more time to inspect the snake-like side’s torso while he pulls the yellow fabric from his fingers, and his quiet intake of breath floods insecurity through Deceit’s veins like ice.

“They’re so… pretty,” Roman breathes, a hand coming up to thumb at a scale on his ribs. Deceit pauses, brows furrowed, and he wants to ask. He wants to ask what Roman means, why he doesn’t say the obvious, why he’s, for some reason, not lying. But then the prince pulls off Deceit’s slacks faster than he can comprehend, and lifts him up with far too much ease to set him on the bed beside where Logan currently lays. Roman manhandles him into the position he wants, and the stern but gentle treatment has more heat flashing through his abdomen.

The soft, needy whine Deceit lets out involuntarily is perhaps the most mortifying sound he’s ever made, and he can’t believe that he let it slip so easily. Logan turns to him at the noise, cocks his head in curiousity and fascination, and his own ministrations upon his torso come to an abrupt halt. Instead, he reaches out to stroke at the scales adorning the side of Deceit’s left leg, drawing a sigh from the owner.

Roman also seems interested in how Deceit seemed to like being moved around, enticed by his responsiveness with each little touch. The prince studies the side below him for a moment, slowly pries his legs apart with a strong grip, and then dips his head down to kiss lightly at the inside of his thigh. Deceit’s breath hitches and he strains to stop himself from pushing his hips up into Roman’s face, but he can’t help but whimper when the roaming lips deliver attention right where his normal skin meets his scales.

“Are you sensitive here?” Roman asks him as he looks up, voice no more than a murmur. The pads of his fingers run along the seam, drift in the divide between glimmering green scales and smooth skin, and then his tongue is licking at where the two edges meet. It draws another whine from Deceit’s mouth, one that’s muffled when Logan reaches over to pull him into a kiss. He hasn’t ever really been kissed before, finding it too intimate to bear, but something about the way that Logan’s tongue eagerly explores every inch of his mouth makes his hips jolt in want.

Logan’s hand slides from Deceit’s leg to his length, whispers of touches not putting nearly enough pressure or friction where he wants it to go, and Roman laughs lowly at the way Deceit pants and his legs tense at the teasing. His hands don’t know what to do, just clutch onto the bedsheets to prevent from getting too ahead of himself. A fingertip ghosts around the head, drops to press the pad into the dip, and the minute amount of attention causes Deceit’s eyebrows to draw in even further.

Logan finally pulls back, lips red as he catches his breath, and Roman’s teasing at his scales is slowly starting to drive him crazy. He wants more, doesn’t think he can take the waiting, but he doesn’t want to act out. Despite himself, he doesn’t want to disappoint them, ruin this experience, get kicked out before he can even experience the intimacy he craves. He knows in the back of his mind that realistically, that wouldn’t happen, but a voice in his head that sounds so, so small tells him to stay still, to listen aptly to their every word. To be good, to make them proud, to follow directions like he should.

So he waits. He waits through the torturously slow drag of Roman’s tongue on his skin, waits through Logan nibbling at his jaw. He waits patiently as Logan’s fingers graze his chest, as Roman’s stroke at his inner thigh. He waits, even when a pout pulls onto his face, even when Roman’s eyes meet his and he whines meaningfully. Roman only chuckles when he sees glazed eyes, knows that Deceit can’t look away from his own desperation reflected back at himself. Then the prince moves to grasp Deceit’s length in his hand, and suddenly Deceit isn’t waiting anymore.

The leisurely slide of calloused fingers on him is nearly dizzying, a long-awaited reprieve from his frustration. The way that Roman stares him down with dark eyes, twists on the upstroke with a flash of amusement just to hear Deceit’s breath hitch, it leaves Deceit reeling. Logan turns onto his side and scoots closer, eyes hazy as he ruts against Deceit’s thigh. Small, shaky breaths puff onto his shoulder, and the logical side’s glasses dig into his neck, and Deceit is more aroused than he’s ever been in his whole life.

Roman seems to feed off of Deceit’s quiet noises, smirks every time his hips raise off the bed to meet his hand. The amount of control Deceit has over himself at this point is very quickly dwindling to nothing, and he finds that he really doesn’t mind. Although he usually likes commanding others, pulling the strings and making the decisions, it’s nice to just let someone else do all the work for once. Even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he wants a break from the stress of this job, and he suddenly understands Logan a whole lot more than he did a few minutes ago.

Speaking of which, said Logan seems to be in even deeper than Deceit is, not even bothering to give himself or his body any attention anymore. He simply lays there, one leg thrown over Deceit’s thigh, erection pressed against the shimmering scales but not moving at all. He only watches, a cheek squished into the pillow and a hand resting on Deceit’s stomach as Roman speeds up his ministrations, and he seems content to simply sit there and exist together with them. It’s strange to watch, yet oddly endearing.

Despite his selfishness, Deceit does feel bad that Logan isn’t doing anything, that he’s been thrown to the side in favour of Deceit himself. It’s difficult to come back to himself long enough to move intentionally, but when he does, he barely manages to shift his thigh and rub upwards on the hardness against it, and he’s rewarded with a high, soft sigh and fluttering lashes. Roman hums when Deceit continues to move his leg, noting the way Logan’s hand curls up on the snake-like side’s stomach unconsciously.

Before Logan’s breaths can turn to whines, Roman stops them, giving his boyfriend a couple bruisingly hard kisses before returning to Deceit. He doesn’t deserve all of the attention he’s getting, and he knows it’s not okay that he’s doing this “no strings attached” when he already has feelings. It feels traitorous that he’s here, underneath Roman and beside Logan, like he’s betraying their trust. They only asked him because they thought he could be impartial, that he was only interested in a one night stand, and now he’s here taking advantage of them. He feels awful. He _is_ awful.

But then Roman is gently pulling his thighs apart, pushing them to each side of his body to gain access, and suddenly he doesn’t care anymore. How can he think about _anything,_ really, when Roman is here, two slicked fingers pressing into him and lighting his whole body on fire? 

To his own credit, Deceit manages to quell the high moan that wells up in his throat at the relief of him finally, _finally_ getting that friction where he wants it. The fingers are slightly cool from the summoned lubricant being exposed to the air for too long, and it takes just a moment to get used to the slide, but Deceit really couldn’t care less. Roman is here, fingers pumping in and out of him at a satisfying pace to get him adjusted as quickly as possible, and Roman doesn’t even bother to mask his own want.

If Deceit thinks that Roman’s third finger pushing in is good, then that paired with Logan leaning down to deliver tiny kitten licks at the tip of his dick is phenomenal, exhilarating. It’s like the air is stuck in his chest, his lungs, breathing inside but never oxygen. Like he could keep living, but it’d never be enough. He’s… pretty melodramatic, for someone who’s getting to have sex with the guy he’s in love with. A guy… who’s already dating someone else. A guy who doesn’t like him. A guy who pities him. There’s a constant push and pull in his mind, going back and forth between self-hatred and dizzying, mindless pleasure. He wants to stop thinking, wants to just let go and just allow himself this one thing. And although Roman can’t know about the turmoil in Deceit’s mind, he seems to subconsciously receive the sentiment anyway, and he crooks his fingers to rub lightly but insistently at Deceit’s prostate.

The gasp he lets out dissolves into a keening whine, completely undignified and grating on his ears, but Logan hums low around his dick and Roman growls from his position between Deceit’s legs. They seem to enjoy it whenever Deceit reacts, when he loses himself in the sensory input, so he gives them one more small noise before shutting himself up again.

Everything is starting to get overwhelming, like he could come any minute now, but his voice isn’t reliable enough to vocalize that. He only reaches up to grip Roman’s arm, gives him a look that he hopes communicates what he wants, and then the prince’s fingers are retreating from his body. The warmth exits him, leaves a yearning behind what with the way Deceit’s hips chase those fingers and he groans at the unfulfillment.

But he doesn’t have to wait for long, because then Roman’s boxers are out of sight and he’s slicking himself up, and the way he pushes into Deceit is far, far more agonizingly pleasurable than his fingers were. The digits were held under more control, sure, but like this, he feels whole. Together, bodies connected properly now, much more intimate. And he knows he should feel guilty, knows that Logan is being left out and that he should rightfully be in Deceit’s place, but then Roman delivers a snap of his hips out of nowhere and Deceit just doesn’t care anymore.

Roman sets a brutal pace right from the start, something Deceit probably should have expected from the dramatic, overzealous, larger-than-life prince. Every thrust delivers a shockwave of heat searing through his abdomen, burning arousal like a brand into his core. The tendons in his thighs are pulled taut at the angle in which Roman holds them down, pushed apart and out of the way so he can have access. Deceit’s ankles slowly shift to hook around the prince’s back, unconsciously attempting to get even closer.

Logan mouths at Deceit’s neck from the side, allowing gentle fingers to whisper along his bare, sweat-sheened skin. They run along the sensitive partition between skin and scales, dip in time with his tongue above, and the extra stimulation leaves Deceit breathless. The logical side’s lips trail further upward, migrate from his throat to his own mouth, and the kiss they share is sloppy and desperate and electrifying.

Deceit doesn’t think he can hold on much longer, not with the way Roman is fucking him. His intention seems to be to get the snake-like side’s climax out of the way first, then finish with Logan. Deceit’s almost jealous, and his tiny, hiccupped moan is bittersweet. But then Roman lifts Deceit’s hips just a little bit, changes his angle, and then snaps his hips again, and everything falls out of place. At the thrust that brushes against his prostate, nearly all the tension in Deceit’s body melts away, and he, for the first time since this started, truly doesn’t have a thought in his mind other than _more, more, more._ He allows himself to let out his voice uninhibited by fear or embarrassment, and he’s rewarded kindly with more thrusts and dark, wanting eyes from both of the two.

“Ro-o-- Roman,” Deceit gasps out, voice high and desperate. One of his hands is being taken up by Logan, and the other grips the sheets hard, looking for something to anchor himself onto so he doesn’t get completely lost in the pleasure. “P-Please.”

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Taking me in so good, hm? I’m proud of you,” Roman dips his head down to murmur in Deceit’s ear, and the loud whimper he draws out of the side below him in return causes him to raise an eyebrow. Logan’s eyes narrow slightly, stoic as he thinks, and then a nod from Roman makes his knitted brows relax. “So pretty. Such a good boy for me.”

“Do-- doin’ good?” Deceit asks, voice high and soft as he hiccups around choked moans and urgent whines. He doesn’t really know what’s going on, can’t remember what he was doing before all this, doesn’t think it even matters. Right now, he’s here, underneath Roman, getting fucked breathless, and all he cares about is making sure that he’s making Roman happy.

“Yes, baby, of course. You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to, lying all pretty and open for me,” Roman murmurs, smirking when Deceit’s whine turns into a cry of pleasure at a particularly harsh thrust. He won’t last much longer, not if Roman keeps his pace, so he does. The prince just keeps going with unmatched stamina, just as hard as the beginning, and it’s bringing Deceit closer and closer to the edge. It only takes the visual of Roman tangling his fingers in Logan’s hair, gently but assertively yanking his head down to swallow Deceit’s length in one go to push him over. 

“Come,” Roman commands, and the snake-like side could never disobey an order. Deceit arches his back, and his vision spots, and tiny gasped whimpers fall from his lips as he comes hard down Logan’s throat. The logical side clutches hard at Deceit’s thigh but stays in place, chest only jumping once with the reflex to cough before settling into stillness. Roman isn’t holding onto Logan’s hair nearly as hard as before, and he only massages his scalp a little bit, talking about something that Deceit is too out of it to make sense of. It takes an embarrassingly long time to realize that Logan swallowed all of it, but the thought brings a whole new flush to his face that he wasn’t prepared for.

His thighs are already getting sore from the position, and a nearly inaudible whine alerts them of his discomfort. Roman lets Deceit’s legs come forward a little bit, enough to ease some of the burn, but they still stay open and wrapped around the prince’s hips, even as he slowly pulls out with a quiet groan. The feeling of a still-hard dick falling out of his sore opening is not pleasant in the slightest, but the ache almost causes him to moan again.

“Lo. C’mere, baby, your turn,” Roman tells the logical side, lips pulling into a smile when he sees that Logan’s eyes are watering and his mouth hangs open as he tries to catch his breath. The way he guides and manhandles Logan to kneel over and straddle Deceit’s lap is unbelievably tender, so full of love that it makes Deceit’s chest hurt. He can’t move, so he just watches them, fucked out and foggy trying to comprehend the position.

He realizes a little too late what this new arrangement means, because Roman is slipping into Logan instead, pushing him forward with the force of it, and Logan’s length prods at Deceit’s own. The movement sends a buzz throughout his limbs, awakens his body once more, and the arousal he feels is weak and simmering below the surface. He doesn’t know if he can even come again, and Logan’s dick pressing against his own almost hurts, but he doesn’t really want to stop it anyway.

So Deceit watches, feels the brush of skin-on-skin and the occasional touch of Roman’s hips as he fucks into Logan above him, a hand curled protectively around the base of his neck. It doesn’t squeeze, just lays there, holding Logan’s head up and his posture straight so he doesn’t put too much weight on Deceit’s hips. Roman takes care of Logan just a little slower, like he’s savouring his lover’s body, just feeling and being with one another. It’s both sweet and heartbreaking to watch.

“Faster, Roman. Please,” Logan mumbles, cheeks red and lashes fluttering. Roman, being ever the courteous boyfriend, obliges him, speeding up his pace almost instantly. The logical side’s lips fall open, eyebrows twitching as a quiet moan builds in his throat. His hands drop to Deceit’s knees on either side of him, grabbing ahold without a second thought. Deceit’s mouth feels dry for a reason he can’t pinpoint.

And then Deceit feels a finger prodding at his entrance, a single digit slipping in, and the soreness makes Deceit’s eyes screw closed and a whine build in his throat. He doesn’t know if he can take any more stimulation, already tired and sensitive, but then Roman pushes a second finger in and curls them exactly where he knew that spot would be. The massage to Deceit’s prostate causes his hips to jump involuntarily, rutting up against Logan’s length, and the sensations from Logan, Roman’s fingers, and the general weariness despite the pleasure starting up again steals his breath away effortlessly.

“S’too much,” Deceit whines, drawing the attention of the prince, of whom continues fucking Logan but stops his ministrations on Deceit. The snake-like side sobs audibly, trying to push back down onto Roman’s fingers but failing with his trapped hips. The two juxtaposing behaviours clearly confuse the prince, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to-- to stop?” Roman asks, starting to become a little breathless himself. Deceit is beyond mortified when he feels tears building in his eyes, when he hears Roman make a concerned noise, but he shakes his head vigorously anyway.

“N-No, no no, please, want-- want it to hurt,” Deceit babbles, not even completely sure of what he’s saying anymore or if what’s coming out of his mouth makes sense, but Roman seems to understand despite his trouble vocalizing his wants. Logan moans softly when Roman reinserts his fingers, causing Deceit to jerk his hips up again and brush against Logan by accident. The prince resumes his massaging of Deceit’s prostate, groaning when Logan suddenly pushes back to meet Roman’s hips much more forcefully than before.

The logical side pants harder and harder throughout Roman’s actions behind him, unable to conceal the whimper he lets out when Roman suddenly pushes him down into Deceit’s chest. The friction of their lengths on one another along with the attack on his prostate leaves Deceit reeling, low, broken whines leaving him along with the wetness that spills over his lashes and drips down the side of his face onto the pillow. Only a few more thrusts and Roman is coming, a soft moan breathed into the air as his hips snap hard, stutter, and still. Logan follows almost immediately, the sticky fluid building between his and Deceit’s torsos.

Roman kisses at Logan’s neck and rubs soothing circles into his hips, cooing when Logan’s breath hitches as he rides out the aftershocks, and the envy Deceit feels is like sleet coursing through his veins. Now that his mind is starting to work properly again, as he recuperates from the exercise he’s just been put through, Deceit doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to watch the two of them being in love right in front of him, on _top_ of him. He wants to cry, then sleep it off, then forget this ever happened.

But first, Roman remembers where his fingers are, and Logan sits back up in realization, and suddenly the attention is back on him. He’s almost hard again, aroused even through his trembling thighs and tired body, and the other two apparently are not the type to leave unfinished business. Logan somehow is able to still move, so he reaches down and starts stroking Deceit quickly almost in time with Roman’s fingers. The sudden burst of pleasure is overwhelming and exhausting and aching and Deceit can’t get enough of it. He comes for the second time, mixing with Logan on his abdomen with a lower, more tired whine.

Deceit isn’t completely there while Roman cleans them up, just barely registering the warm cloth wiping off his stomach and inner thighs. Through the haze he sees the two of them walk into the en suite bathroom together, talking intimately amongst themselves in low voices as the shower starts up, and their linked hands just make Deceit nauseous. Although he really doesn’t want to move, he can’t stay here and encroach on their time any more, so he stands on wobbly, burning legs and retrieves his clothes before sinking out into his room and flopping straight onto his own bed.

He doesn’t see them walk back out coming to look for him. He doesn’t hear Logan try to ask him to join them, but falter because nobody is there. He doesn’t see the disappointment on Roman’s face when he realizes Deceit left. He doesn’t see any of it, because his eyes are already blurring with tears again, this time for a much different reason.

* * *

Deceit spends the whole of two days in his room alone before they come back. He’s been curled up in his bed, rotating between crying, sleeping, and staring blankly at the wall the entire time. On the second morning he finally manages to pull on some clothing, a simple hoodie and sweatpants for comfort. He doesn’t really feel like trying, doesn’t feel like putting on a mask and pretending to be okay, so he just avoids those situations altogether. Remus doesn’t even come knocking at his door, already used to his long periods of being a shut-in, so Deceit manages two days of complete solitude before the quiet is broken by the very same sides who caused it.

Hearing the knock at the door jolts Deceit out of whatever dissociative state he’s in this time, jumpstarting a few of his body systems to start running at full capacity again. His mouth is dry, so he sits up on pent-up muscles and downs half of the glass of stale water waiting for him on his bedside table. The alarm clock there reads for ten in the evening, which means the person who’s most likely to be trying to see him is Remus. He tends to prefer operating under the night hours, so.

But then Deceit stands up, ignoring the slight sting in his lower back as he shuffles over to the door, and it swings open to reveal none other than Roman standing there awkwardly in the darkness of the hallway. For a second, everything else washes away, to the point where Deceit hones in purely on how Roman looks right now. He’s only wearing some boxers and a t-shirt, and he seems cold, but his cheeks are red and his eyes are warm. He looks open, welcoming even in unfamiliar territory, and the love Deceit holds for him wells up in his throat and chokes his breathing.

Roman gives him a tight smile, tilts his head a little bit as he simply nods in the direction of the stairs, and Deceit just follows silently. He doesn’t really think that he could say no even if he wanted to. All of the tears he’s shed over the past couple days mean nothing in the face of Roman’s freckled forearms and bare legs. There’s no telling what he’s walking towards, whether he’s willingly bringing himself to his own doom, but Roman just smiles at him with that sheepish, awkward expression and Deceit just melts.

He wonders if they’re bringing him back to their room so that they can yell at him. To tell him off in the same place he had one of the best nights he’s ever had, a cruel final laugh in his face before he’s cast back out into the lonely dark. Or maybe he’s just being dramatic, and they’re just going to gently tell him that it was a mistake, that they probably should just never talk to each other again, since that would be easier. Let’s pretend it never happened, no hard feelings, right?

Never being able to talk to Roman again at all just might be more painful than him being angry and blustering.

So Deceit starts to feel sick. He feels nauseous when he’s lead down the hall, weak when the two of them trudge up the stairs. He aches when they return to the light sides’ part of the mindscape, and he’s lightheaded when they pause in front of Roman’s door again. He wants to bolt when Roman finally opens the door, like being alone and depressed would be better than being here, now. 

Then he actually looks inside Roman’s room, and he’s met with a sight that instantly dries his mouth like a desert.

Logan is there waiting for them, kneeling on the bed with his hands bound behind his back. He’s in his boxers and a fully opened button up, one that lays on his shoulders and drifts down, curling around his hips. His face is neutral but submissive, almost contemplative. And he makes a soft noise when he sees both Deceit and Roman walk into the room, jaw propped open by a dark ball gag.

Any words Deceit was planning on spouting off to try and remedy and diffuse the situation he was sure would turn hostile have instantly left him, lost in the void. The last thing he expected when being led here to their room was to see Logan like this. Don’t they hate him? Wasn’t that night awkward and uncomfortable? Couldn’t they tell that he broke the rules, that he has romantic feelings, that he was taking advantage of them? Can’t they see how awful he is?

Apparently they don’t, because Roman just turns to him and asks him to stay with them tonight too, tells him that they have a couple more things they wanna try out, that they want him to be here for it. The words almost mean nothing to Deceit, like they’re filtered through water thick as sludge and cold as ice, but the “yes” he responds with is the clearest thing he’s heard all day. The next thing Deceit knows, his clothing is gone and he’s mirroring Logan’s position, no ball gag or restraints but just as still. Neither of them look at one another, but rather at Roman, and wait there patiently for instructions.

“My good boys,” Roman murmurs, raising a hand to tilt Deceit’s head up by his jaw. The sensation of his touch lingers there on the skin even after his fingers leave Deceit’s face, a warm buzz coursing through his body like Roman transferred pure energy to him by way of his fingertips. Oddly enough, seeing him stroke Logan’s cheek with one hand doesn’t make Deceit jealous-- it just amps up his yearning. 

With a single desperate, forceful kiss from Roman, Deceit is left with no thoughts left in his head, nothing important or serious or anything other than what’s going on in front of him. He listens carefully to Roman’s words, watches his every move to make sure he doesn’t miss any cues. Talking about this can wait until after they’re done.

“Lo, I want you to lay down on the bed. Dee, stretch yourself, m’kay?” Roman says, a gentle command that’s posed as a question. Deceit is left reeling by the nickname, one that Roman didn’t seem to even consciously realize he coined. He can’t linger on it too much though, because Roman wants him to prep himself, and Deceit can’t disappoint him.

The scaled side shuffles to the side to allow Roman access to his boyfriend, sitting back into a kneel the same as before, but this time with his hand underneath him already submerged to the knuckle. Deceit leans back a bit to give a little bit of a push, to make it easier to reach, and he’s rewarded with the ability to reach his prostate much more comfortably. He doesn’t go all-in yet though, and instead sinks in a second finger while he watches Roman start to prepare Logan, too.

Deceit’s attention hones in on Roman’s fingers working Logan open, unconsciously matching his own pace to the prince’s. He can already feel his face getting hot, burning with want that simmers under the surface. The stretch is familiar, and his fingers know his body like an old friend. He knows where to touch to feel good, but where to avoid to make sure he doesn’t get ahead of himself, and he just gyrates back on his hand and relishes in the sight of the logical side’s hitched breathing and hips that chase that searing friction.

Roman doesn’t waste much more time with foreplay, hand teasing at Logan’s chest before leaving his body completely. The other hand soon follows, and Roman only grins when he sees Logan’s unconscious pouting. The latter’s glasses are whisked off of his face and onto the bedside table, leaving him squinting slightly but otherwise quiet. It’s oddly endearing.

“You follow orders so well. Come here and sit,” Roman turns and tells Deceit, his low purr of smooth praise stirring something deep in Deceit’s gut. The compliment is like a drug, and intoxicating reassurance that he’s at least doing _something_ right that flows heavy in his veins. He’s already addicted, hanging off of Roman’s every word like he’d die without it. 

Being led to sit on Logan’s lap is confusing and yet one of the easiest things he’s ever done, because it’s Roman. If the prince tells Deceit to do something, he’s sure as hell going to do it, and he’ll do so without complaint. Even though he doesn’t know what Roman has planned, Deceit trusts that he’ll be careful and would never intentionally attempt to hurt him.

He doesn’t expect Roman to take Logan’s length in his hand and guide it to be buried in Deceit himself, but he doesn’t really mind.

Logan’s panting mixes with the sound of Deceit’s soft whine, two pairs of big, glazed over eyes turning to the creative side as if searching for further instruction. Neither of them wants to take control, could properly dom the other, so that only leaves Roman to pick up the pieces and lead their way. Deceit finds a pattern in the way Roman regards them, since he always has that same indescribable look in his eyes when he watches the two of them together, and he doesn’t know what it means or what that look is supposed to convey.

“Ride him, Dee,” Roman murmurs hotly into Deceit’s ear, hands running down the half-scaled body like water. His grip stops at Deceit’s hips, goes dormant for all of two seconds before he’s lifting the shorter side up and pushing him back down. The riding is one thing, languid and measured, but the manhandling is a whole new concept that Deceit hasn’t considered before now. There’s something overwhelming about the way that Deceit is made into a puppet, like he’s just a hole to fuck and nothing more. It’s hard to choose between mind-numbing arousal and cold envy as a reaction to that realization.

And as a result of this, Deceit just… shuts down. He doesn’t do much himself, just watches Logan’s dick disappear into him over and over and over like a metronome, Roman’s fingers like flaming brands in his sides. It’s like his body is failing to cooperate, forcing himself to take the literal role of “fucktoy” to avoid thinking too hard about his anger and shame and jealousy. He can only feel the pleasure, feel the heat in his abdomen and the heat on his hips.

Time passes by Deceit’s awareness far too easily, broken and hidden behind the walls he put up to not have to confront the fact that he knows this won’t last. It’s a last hurrah for them, just a way to check things off their list, and there’s really not many new things you can do with three people before you’re repeating the same stuff over and over again. They’ll get bored with him soon, dump him back into solitude as he deserves, and then Deceit will have to learn to live with the pain of knowing exactly what he’ll never, ever have.

* * *

“Hey, Dee, wanna come watch a movie with us?”

The invite is unexpected, because of course it is, but Deceit can’t say he’s entirely surprised. This game that the three of them are playing just keeps going, running in circles around each other with no confrontation, no communication outside of the sex. And the sex is frequent, more than Deceit would have ever imagined. He gets one of them knocking at his door every few days, stoic and neutral or embarrassed and fidgety, and _both_ of them have that same odd expression on when Deceit agrees to join them.

He would’ve thought that they’d exhausted all of their options in their little list by now, but three weeks later, the nights are just as consistent as ever. Deceit doesn’t know what exactly they’re trying to accomplish, if there’s some bigger goal or reason why this just keeps on going and going and going, but Deceit is too much of a coward to say something and too weak to try and call it off. 

So he’s at a crossroads, stuck at a standstill with no energy, constantly running on empty and doing nothing but grin and bear it. This rabbit hole must be deeper than he originally thought, because the other two show no signs or intentions of stopping this relationship any time soon. Deceit just worries that the mutually beneficial relationship will become empty and hollow, nothing more than a front for self-hatred and guilt.

But right now, that doesn’t matter, because Roman and Logan are standing at his door both in full pajama sets, a far cry from the much less coordinated attire they usually wear while in that spot. Logan is just as unreadable as always, standing a bit behind Roman as he taps his foot impatiently. Said Roman is antsy, wound-up but looking comfortable enough, and his expectant grin as he waits for the snake-like side’s answer just tears painfully at Deceit’s heart.

“Uh,” Deceit says eloquently, eyebrows drawn together in disbelief. They do realize that their arrangement is just for sex, right? That they’re not, like… dating. They’re not even really friends, just unwilling acquaintances with benefits. Is that a thing? That should probably be a thing, given the fact that there is absolutely no way the two of them would ever consider Deceit a friend. “What?”

“Patton and Virgil are currently out with Thomas at the moment, so Roman decided that an optimal way to spend our free time would be to watch a movie. We both would enjoy your company, so we have come to extend an invitation to join us,” Logan informs him, voice as level and clear as always. The logical side’s communication is a bit of a phenomenon, at least to Deceit, because of how oddly it behaves. His words are always concise, and his tone is usually fairly neutral, and yet there’s an intensity there that Deceit doesn’t know how to describe. It makes him feel like he’s being observed or judged, like he’s stuck in a glass box labeled with what he’s supposed to be even when that’s who he doesn’t _want_ to be. Or maybe Deceit is just reading into things too much again.

“Oh. I… I suppose that’d be fine, as long as I’m not intruding on-- on ‘date night’, or something,” Deceit mumbles, ducking his head to hide his twisting expression. The knowledge of being an outsider to them leaves an incredibly bitter taste in Deceit’s mouth, unparalleled even by the scent of Patton’s infamous burnt-to-a-crisp, sad excuses for cookies.

“Date night? Nah, we’d go into the Imagination for that,” Roman dismisses with a wave of his hand, nodding to Logan, who returns the gesture and then sinks out, presumably to go to their common area. Deceit _wishes_ he could do that. He may be able to rise up into the real world and down into his room, but the dark sides can’t rise up anywhere in the light sides’ part of the mindscape, having to instead physically travel there through the stairways and long, winding hallways that connect the two areas.

Roman chooses to accompany him through this trek, and although they walk in mellow silence, the company is much appreciated. Sometimes Deceit sees shadows out of the corner of his eyes when he’s down here, dark, twisting shapes that creep up behind him, insinuating nefarious intents and purposes, but sometimes Deceit also wonders if maybe he’s just trying to convince himself that those shadows haven’t always been him all along. At least when Roman’s here, Deceit can ignore that voice in his head and block out the demons that stalk ever so close to his heart, just waiting for their chance to take over.

Walking into the light sides’ living room is like a breath of fresh air, an oasis in the midst of an arid desert. As soon as he steps into the room, Deceit can immediately feel its effects, like all of the weight he’s been holding has been lifted off of his shoulders. Everything here feels lighter and brighter, a stark difference to the cold, cave-like features the dark sides’ area has, and Deceit already wants to just stay here and never leave.

Logan is waiting for the two of them when they arrive, sitting curled up on the couch in his unicorn onesie, sipping on a steaming mug of what looks to be coffee. He hasn’t worn his onesie around anyone in a while, so the sight initially is a cause for some mild surprise, but Deceit supposes it’s to be expected. Roman’s influence on Logan is clearly very strong, allowing him to be more expressive and not ashamed to enjoy things. It warms Deceit’s heart just a little bit.

“Roman, I’ll let you pick the movie, but don’t make me regret it,” Logan says menially as his boyfriend plops down on the couch beside him, taking a loud sip of his coffee to further bolster his point. Deceit smiles small and inconspicuous, shuffling over to the other big chair in the room, fully intending on letting them have their cuddle time to stay in their good graces in whatever way he can muster. Their lighthearted bickering slows to a stop when he sits down, and for a moment, he wonders if they’re rethinking their decision to invite him. He must look so out of place, right?

“Dee? What’re you doing?” Roman asks, brows furrowed and a pout on his lips. Deceit is overcome with a breathtaking urge to kiss that pout away, but of course he doesn’t do that. Instead, he hums in question, pretending like the words don’t slightly terrify him. What if they ask him to leave? What if he really is destined to be alone and suffering under the weight of his “dark side” title?

“Dece… Dee. You are very welcome to come sit with us. We already told you that this isn’t a ‘date night’, as you put it. We just want to spend time with you,” Logan tells him softly, more gentle than his words usually are, the kind of tone he usually reserves for Roman and Roman alone. The voice and care sends shivers down Deceit’s spine and makes his heart ache, both in envy and something else he can’t quite pinpoint. 

“What do you care?” Deceit wants to ask, but he doesn’t.

“Don’t you hate me?” He wonders inwardly, wishing he could push the words off his tongue so that he can finally understand.

“Why?” He doesn’t say, so there is no answer to satisfy him.

Instead, he slowly gets up and quietly moves to sit on their couch, at enough of a respectable distance so that any mid-movie cuddling or kissing won’t be made too awkward by his presence. When it happens, he’ll just keep watching the screen, pretend like he doesn’t realize what they’re doing. It’ll hurt, sure, but at least they won’t hate him. Probably.

Both of them look at Deceit weirdly, identical expressions Deceit cannot give a name to. They’re so loaded that the snake-like side has to look away, turn the other scaled cheek and act like he isn’t freaking out on the inside. He curls up in his big hoodie and sweatpants, presses himself into the arm of the couch, and just watches as Roman gets his movie of choice ready.

He chooses a Disney movie from what Deceit can tell, because of course he does, and he’s immediately invested in it by the end of the first scene. Deceit can’t pay enough attention to figure out what movie it is, is too busy watching Roman and Logan instead, just observing their reactions and behaviour. It’s much more entertaining than some princess story would be.

About thirty minutes in, Roman starts pestering Logan to bring them a bowl of popcorn to share, the latter of whom grumbles under his breath but readily obliges if only to get away from the haranguing and the many continuity errors he’s been pointing out as if on reflex. Logan disappears into the kitchen, and the sound of plastic and the microwave soon follow afterward. Roman is still heavily enraptured by the movie and gasps at any scene that has pretty effects or sparkles in it, and Deceit can’t help but to watch the prince on the couch over the prince on the screen. His little squeals at his favourite lines of dialogue are so endearing that Deceit feels a little choked up, and the glowing happiness he gets from watching Roman is bittersweet.

It’s only by chance that Deceit glances over at the doorway into the kitchen, but instead of an empty frame like he expected, Logan is standing there. Not watching Roman, but watching _Deceit,_ giving him that same strange look he had given him earlier and many times before that. Maybe Logan hates him. Maybe he’s suspicious that Deceit is secretly plotting someone’s demise, or coming up with and enacting an evil plan, and he’s watching him to make sure Deceit can’t go through with it. Maybe he’s just flat-out disgusted by him. Although Logan said they considered his snake features in terms of sex, he never said that he liked them. Deceit understands that-- he loves snakes, but he kinda hates his scales, too.

But when Deceit comes back to himself, Logan has already returned, sitting down in the middle of the couch with a big bowl in hand, and the position forces Roman to scoot over and sit right beside Deceit. And the scaled side can’t exactly go much further than where he is now, because the arm of the couch is already digging into his waist uncomfortably. If he tries to move more, he’d just end up sitting on the arm, and that’d be even weirder than just sitting beside Roman like a normal human being.

“Thank you, Lo! You’re the best,” Roman exclaims joyously, and turns to pull Logan into a quick kiss before snatching a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table. The show of affection makes Deceit a little queasy, makes him want to jump up and turn tail and run away forever. Unfortunately, they took the time to invite him to hang out, so there’s no way in hell he’d do something so stupid as to ruin this chance for amicable relations. 

“You forced me, Roman,” Logan tells him with no inflection at all, and Deceit wonders if he practices in front of a mirror to be able to get his tone that neutral or if it’s just a natural-born talent. Roman scoffs and waves a hand in dismissal, stretching his arm to slither in between Logan’s back and the couch, and then he pulls the logical side closer to his chest in one smooth movement. In a gesture that leaves Deceit unable to breathe, Roman wraps a hand around his waist and pulls him closer, too.

“My boys watching Disney with me,” Roman fake-sobs, dramatically throwing his head back. The ache in Deceit’s chest climbs to even more painful levels. His boys. Roman’s boys. Roman’s _Deceit._ He’s going to faint. “It’s truly a gift sent from the heavens!”

Deceit can’t even wiggle his way out of Roman’s grip with how hard his brain is short-circuiting at the contact. He doesn’t know if he’d even want to if he could, anyway. There’s something so overwhelming at even the simplest bit of contact, like Roman’s arm is made of pure fire or ice or needles or _something_ that Deceit can’t pinpoint but makes his body buzz. It feels like electricity is going straight through him, pulsing like a star in his torso. He can’t breathe.

Resisting the urge to jolt and run away is excruciating, both mentally and physically. Mentally, because he keeps getting yanked back and forth between “Oh my god Roman is cuddling with me oh my god I’m going to die oh my god please hug me more holy fuck,” and “Oh god there’s someone touching me and it feels like burning and wrong I’m going to die I’m going to _die,”._ Physically, because as his mind is helpfully informing him, it feels like his skin is burning and twitching underneath where Roman’s body makes contact. Both of them are equally dizzying.

But he manages to suppress the deep-seated want to run and hide, focuses solely on the movie in front of him despite not seeing or hearing anything throughout the rest of it, and soon enough, the credits are rolling across the screen. Roman yawns and stretches backward, making a noise that Deceit can only describe as a mix between a wheeze and a screech as he does so. The action is very annoying, and very _Roman,_ and Deceit hates that it’s so endearing.

“Time for bed, Roman. We should leave before the other two return, or else we’ll be stuck here for a while like last time,” Logan murmurs lowly into Roman’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering and closing under the weight of exhaustion. The prince just chuckles and kisses his boyfriend on the forehead, laughing under his breath as he turns to scoop him up. The absence of Roman’s arm around him is both one of the most relieving and one of the most disappointing things Deceit’s ever had to deal with.

Deceit stands with the other two and laughs silently at the way Logan tiredly complains about being picked up bridal-style, batting at Roman’s face with languid hands and only getting giggles in response. The two of them look so perfect together, so right for each other, as if they fit together like puzzle pieces. And Deceit’s the piece that doesn’t fit anywhere no matter how hard you try to find a way, the piece that’s supposed to be on the other side of the board. He has no right being here.

But what’s done is done, so he simply follows the two of them up the stairs, trying to ignore their quiet, flirty banter as they get closer to Logan’s room. As soon as they approach the door, Deceit just nods in their direction before scurrying past, attempting to reach at least the other stairwell before letting himself go. But before he can even take a few steps, his arm is being tugged on, stopping him in his tracks with no resistance.

“Goodnight, my dear Dee,” Roman says softly, a gentle smile on his face like a ray of sunlight shining onto your pillow in the early morning. Before Deceit can make his escape, Roman leans forward and leaves a lingering kiss on Deceit’s forehead, triggering that buzzing, burning sensation all over again. Logan doesn’t go near the lengths Roman did, but he does squeeze Deceit’s hand with a sleepy smile, causing that same unplaceable feeling from earlier to rise anew from the ashes in his chest like a molten, unstoppable phoenix. A feeling of dread rises with it, but Deceit only nods, mustering a quick “goodnight” in return before scampering away to the familiar darkness once more.

* * *

The next time Deceit sees one of them is four days later, and he’s already starting to get a bit stir-crazy from being locked up in his room all the time.

Of course, Deceit knows that this predicament could easily be remedied by just _leaving his room,_ but the thought of going outside only holds cons in his mind. He can’t really go into the dark sides’ living room, because there’s nothing in there except a couch and a table, and it’s really cold and dark all the time. He can’t go to Remus, because Remus’ room moved from the lower level to the light sides’ area after Thomas accepted that he can’t get rid of him, so now his room is right beside his brother’s. He can’t go hang out with the light sides, because they still hate him, and not to mention, Deceit is pretty sure that if he runs into Roman again after that forehead kiss the other night, he could be in real danger of melting into a puddle of embarrassment. And he can’t rise up into the real world, either, because Thomas still shouts his name and gives him dirty looks every time he sees the snake-like side, and Deceit just doesn’t want to deal with that shit right now.

So he’s kinda stuck.

There’s not really very much to do in his room, since the dark sides have never really been allowed most basic amenities. They can survive, sure, and if Thomas knew the conditions of their living area he’d probably be upset and try to fix it (at least, Deceit _thinks_ he would-- who knows, maybe he’d just ignore it), but Deceit can’t ever let him know about how he really lives. It’d just garner pity and make him lose his advantage of being mysterious and strong. He can’t appear weak, because then he’ll just be walked over worse than he already is, and ~~he doesn’t think he can handle any more of it~~ his job as a side would be even more difficult.

As a result of that, his room is more reminiscent of a cave, really, rather than an actual bedroom, given that it’s dark and damp and the walls are made of stone. Deceit adores the aesthetic, but his cold-blooded body doesn’t agree with the low temperatures at all, so he constantly feels vaguely sick when he’s down here. Which is all the time, so “vaguely sick” is more of a baseline for him, really.

He only has a bed, a bookshelf, and a desk in his room, and although his own possessions are very minimal (less to lose), he does his best with what he has. The bed is honestly a bad excuse for one, but he sleeps on it, so he supposes it constitutes well enough. It’s more of a pile of blankets, like a nest, almost, and although he almost always has back pain after laying in it all night, it feels safe. His shelf has a few books stored there, ones that are well-worn and very dear to him, but sometimes he wishes for more than just that to keep him occupied. 

Other than that, there isn’t much else. His desk is nearly always empty, save for a single sketchpad that he uses when he’s _really_ bored and a small cup of pencils and pens. He doesn’t bother with a closet, because the energy it takes to uphold is far more than the energy he needs to just snap himself into whatever clothes he wants. Besides, the other part is more important. 

Behind his bookcase is a small cut-out in the wall, leaving just enough space for a box about the size of his torso. This is where he keeps the really important things, the stuff he just couldn’t bear to lose. Deceit would probably look so pathetic if anyone ever found out about it, but as long as he’s careful, nobody will ever have to know. In times like right now, whenever the loneliness is really getting to him, he takes out the box and goes through it, reliving memories and taking happiness in the items tucked away in there.

And he really, really needs that comfort, that temporary boost, so Deceit gingerly lifts the box out of its alcove and sets it down on the bed with the care and caution of someone who really is just a fool in the end. He decides to leave the bookcase propped open and away from the wall just in case by some miracle Thomas actually calls him for help, but Deceit knows that the notion is nothing more than a pipe dream and there’s no way Thomas would willingly ask for Deceit’s input.

After Deceit sits cross-legged in the middle of his blanket nest and rests the box on the floor in front of him, he lifts the lid off carefully. Immediately, he’s met with a familiar sight, one that’s purely an illusion hiding the real contents. The box itself seems shallower than it really is because of the false bottom, a simple tray set on top with a couple of pens and pieces of frayed fabric to appear innocent. He hooks his finger around the edge and lifts out the false bottom, sitting it down on the floor without another glance, and then gazes upon what he’s actually looking for.

Deceit slowly pulls out what’s on the very top, which is a long velvety stripe of bright green fabric, smooth under his hands and calming his shaking fingers. It’s Remus’ old sash, the one that’s nearly identical to Roman’s, the one Roman conjured for him before the two of them parted ways. Remus probably doesn’t even realize it’s gone, much less about Deceit having it, and the snake-like side will tease the fabric under his fingertips whenever he needs to calm himself down and ground himself in the present. It also helps to remind him that even if Remus isn’t there with him anymore, he might be the only one who doesn’t completely hate him, and that helps to get him through the day breathing just a little bit easier.

The next item underneath the sash is a stuffed bunny, with soft, fake cream fur and a neat little blue ribbon tied around the neck. It’s one of the hundreds of stuffies Patton keeps in his room, and it isn’t anything grandiose or special, which is why Patton likely didn’t even notice that it was gone. Deceit still feels bad for taking it, but he figures that if Patton hasn’t come looking for it, it either wasn’t very important to him or he just hasn’t realized it’s gone at all. He wouldn’t be surprised, considering the fact that Patton’s room is almost completely covered in stuffed animals, and at the rate he’s going with conjuring and collecting them, it’d be hard to keep track of every single one that closely. Although Patton is terrified of him, and he knows it’s better that way, Deceit still yearns for the easy care and love he readily shows everyone else. He can’t have that, though, so instead he just hugs the bunny tight and pretends it’s one of the hugs he sees Patton give all of the others without a second thought.

The third item he pulls out is much smaller than the others, just a simple red fountain pen, but it means absolutely everything to him. Roman has plenty of pens and pencils and markers, but Deceit would probably die before he ever took one of them, so instead, he made a replica. It’s a copy of Roman’s favourite pen, the one with the sprightly red poof on top and the glittery red gel ink. He uses it all the time, and can often be seen nibbling on the cap whilst deep in thought in random casual situations. He brings the thing everywhere to make sure he never misses an opportunity to jot down an idea, and the way he keeps it close just makes Deceit fall in love with him more. Although it’s not the real thing, doodling little hearts and swirls on his hands and the wall beside his bed gives him a happy, warm feeling, just like every single one of Roman’s beaming smiles.

The fourth item Deceit pulls out is one of Logan’s ties, pulled from where it and many other completely identical ones hang in his closet. He has so many of them, and they’re all the exact same, and Deceit isn’t sure what the purpose of it is. He gets that changing into clothes instead of just snapping into them makes them feel more human, gives a normality born from routine, but every single tie in that closet has the same pattern and length, so what’s the point? This is something that absolutely vexes him sometimes, but Deceit supposes it’s for the best, because that means that Logan probably didn’t notice there being one less tie in the unholy mess that is his tie rack. If he did, he hasn’t said a word about it, so hopefully that means he isn’t angry at Deceit for taking it. He just couldn’t help himself, though, because sometimes the only thing that can stave off a panic attack is wrapping that tie around his fingers and hands and wrists, pulling gently to create a light pressure that makes everything feel just a little bit less overwhelming. 

The last item in the box is probably what would be the most mortifying of all of them were he to be found out. The dark fabric sits nicely folded in the true bottom, acts as padding for everything else in there to make sure nothing gets crushed, and it’s also one of the things Deceit takes out the least. He only grabs it when he’s close to or in a spiral, or on the edge of a depressive episode. Bringing out Virgil’s old black jacket and pulling it tightly around himself makes Deceit feel safe, and the scent of cinnamon still lingers in the fabric. It reminds him of old times, when Virgil used to run around the dark sides’ area with Remus and play silly games all day, when he and Deceit used to make terrible cookies together but still have fun anyway, when he would wake up from a nightmare and come crawling into Deceit’s nest to cuddle close and fall asleep to the sound of the snake-like side’s heartbeat. Deceit misses his best friend, sure, but curling up in that old, familiar jacket and pretending like everything is okay will have to do for now.

That’s what Deceit planned on doing, anyway, because the loneliness is really starting to get to him, but he’s barely able to unfold the jacket before there’s a knock at his door, and he sits there for a moment in a muted panic. Whoever it is, he can’t let them see this kind of weakness, the shame that comes with having stolen the other sides’ stuff (he’s a thief, he’s living up to his villainous demeanour, he really _is_ bad and awful), so Deceit hurriedly stuffs everything back inside the box and slips it back into the alcove behind his bookshelf. He’s just pushed the shelf against the wall when another knock comes, and his heart is still racing by the time he strides over to crack open the door.

“Hello, Deceit. Hopefully I did not wake you up?” Logan phrases as a question, standing there with his hands behind his back looking unusually nervous. He’s dressed in his black shirt but lacks a tie, and instead of jeans, he’s wearing some thick black sweatpants. He seems uncomfortable even while dressed down, and Deceit can’t help the spike of anxiety that comes from seeing the typically put-together Logan appear slightly frazzled.

“ **Yes, you did.** I mean, no, you didn’t. Sorry,” Deceit corrects himself after the impulsive lie, forcing himself to stop letting his mind wander so he can put his energy towards speaking properly. If he’s not paying attention, if he isn’t trying, then nearly everything that comes out of his mouth is likely to be completely backwards, and that gets annoying even for Deceit himself to listen to. “What’s up?”

“I… well, I came here to ask if you would like to join me for a while. I am, uh… a bit… _flustered,_ to say the least, but Roman is in the Imagination currently, and I don’t really want to wait for him to return,” Logan informs, voice rough and cheeks reddened. He seems embarrassed at the admission, which Deceit doesn’t really fault him for-- he’d be embarrassed in his situation too-- but Deceit thinks it might be a little more than that. Neither of them have ever asked to fuck around with Deceit alone, and Logan has never had to invite Deceit to have sex on his own, so this is probably new to him.

“Oh, uh, sure. Wait-- will Roman be okay with this? I don’t want to… to make him upset or anything,” Deceit manages, both relieved at the prospect of not having to spend all of tonight completely alone but also uncertain of what this would be like with only the two of them. Deceit’s never had sex with just one of them before, for one, and for two, Roman is always the one who takes the lead and tells the both of them what to do. How exactly would they operate without someone like that there to help them?

“Hm? Oh, we already discussed that aspect of this relationship. He agrees that it is fine,” Logan tells him distractedly, uncharacteristically unable to make eye contact. Although Deceit sort of understands his wariness, he doesn’t think it’d be _that_ bad for it to just be the two of them, right? Why does Logan look so uncomfortable with doing this? If he doesn’t want to do this with him, then why is he even asking? Does… does he really despise Deceit that much?

But Deceit would never ask that aloud, so he doesn’t now, and the two of them start the trek back to their area in silence. This type of quiet is much more awkward than with Roman, and although he appreciates Logan’s presence all the same, it feels like he’s only here out of obligation, not because he actually wants to be. The logical side is just as unreadable now as he has been since this whole thing started, even with the obvious nervousness in the situation, like there’s something more beneath the surface that Deceit can’t reach. He wants to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, wants to understand why Logan won’t just ask Roman to cut ties with Deceit if it makes him this uncomfortable, but that’s impossible, so instead, he walks.

Instead of entering Roman’s room like every other time, Logan leads him straight to his own bedroom, and enters without a moment of hesitation. Deceit has only been in here once, when he came to take one of Logan’s ties, and that stressful mission kept him too on edge to stop and observe his surroundings. Now that he has a moment to catch his breath, he can take a little glimpse into Logan’s everyday life, and the mild intimacy of the thought doesn’t escape him.

Where Roman’s room is cluttered, spacious, and grand, Logan’s room is tidy, compact, and simple. Although the colour scheme is very neutral and the bedroom reminds Deceit of the impersonal nature of a hotel room, there are touches of Logan himself shining through that really give the room the personality it desperately needs. The walls are a light grey and the floor is black hardwood, with a bed, a desk, a bookshelf, and a closet just as any other bedroom. But there’s more to it, more of Logan laying on top, truly making the room his own.

The walls are painted with blue and purple nebulas, galaxies curling beautifully around the room like it’s nothing. The ceiling itself boasts the vast, endless chasm of space stretching for light years above your head. It isn’t painted, but rather seems like it’s really there, twinkling stars and distant planetary bodies shining brightly, like you could just reach up and trail your hand through space dust. The shelves in his room are full of all different sorts of books, thick and thin and old and new, like there are entire worlds hidden past the covers. The desk is big, with papers and folders and pens placed neatly on the black glass. There’s a cozy reading nook in the corner, beanbag chairs placed strategically around a coffee table piled high with novels.

The bedroom is so Logan it hurts, tied in so intrinsically with his personality and interests that it is simultaneously endearing and harrowing. Deceit finds himself incredibly envious of his neat, cozy living conditions, how his room is so effortlessly beautiful and has every single thing that he could ever need or want without Logan even having to try. Deceit can never have that, he knows, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t yearn for it so painfully that a lump forms in his throat.

But he’s not in here to stare in wonder at his surroundings or to just hang out, so Deceit forces down his jealousy and weariness and hones his attention in on Logan himself. He’s all that matters right now, not the room, and it’s important that Deceit pay complete attention to what he wants and needs. Although Logan seems to be far less than thrilled to be doing this with him, the very least Deceit can do is make him feel good. Partially so that Logan won’t hate him, and partially because Deceit just… really, _really_ wants to. Surprisingly so.

“What do you want me to do?” Deceit asks, following Logan to his bed. The logical side sits down, hands pushing strongly at his knees to gain some control, and his breathing slowly begins to even out. Deceit just crouches down in front of the bed and stares up at him, waiting for instructions or any indication of what he’s supposed to do, how he wants him to help. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“Ah, then… maybe just… something simple for now? I’m not used to participating in sexual activities without Roman, and I admit it’s making me a bit unsure,” Logan mumbles, eyes distant and voice soft. He bites his bottom lip thoughtfully, fingers still pulling at his sweatpants, and Deceit just sighs.

“If you’re unsure, then maybe you should just wait for him to get back. If you don’t want to do this with me, then you shouldn’t. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later,” Deceit says carefully, voice reassuring but firm. Of course he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to go back to his cold room and the tiredness and the sickness and the loneliness, but he’d much rather suffer himself than force Logan to do something he doesn’t want to just because the logical side thinks that it’s his only option.

“What? Oh! Oh, no, I apologize, I must have been unclear. I don’t mean that I’m unsure about doing this with you. I _want_ to do this with you. I just mean that I’m not very acquainted with having much control in these scenarios, as Roman is typically very headstrong about what he wants. And that’s okay, because it’s nice to just… let someone else be in charge for once, you know? But now, without him here, I’m finding myself at a loss, because I’ve become so used to not having to make decisions in encounters of a sexual nature that now that I am in the position to have that freedom, I’m ‘drawing a blank’, if you will. Hopefully that clarifies some things,” Logan explains, eye contact restored and much more power behind his voice now that he’s built a bit more confidence. Informing and teaching people is Logan’s strong suit, what makes him more comfortable in his surroundings, and if talking and tangenting puts him at ease in the situation, then Deceit will gladly listen for hours if that’s what it takes for Logan to situate himself.

“Ah,” Deceit hums, settling himself on his knees instead of the awkward squat he was in before. “Well. You’re a habitual creature, Logan. You’re always thinking on and on about everything. With sex, you don’t really do that as much. Don’t think, Lo, just feel. I don’t want to know what you _think_ we should do. I want to know what _feels_ right to you.”

And apparently, that was the correct thing to say, because Logan’s eyes darken and his posture simultaneously relaxes and becomes more looming. His mouth parts slightly, and his eyes narrow, and he says nothing. Instead, he grabs onto the back of Deceit’s neck and leads him back upward, leans down just enough, and then their lips are meeting in a clash of neediness and wanting. Deceit’s toes curl when Logan takes his lip between his teeth, and shivers zip up and down his spine when their tongues tangle. It’s heated and messy and wet and absolutely perfect.

Logan hands find their way into Deceit’s hair, knocking his bowler hat off of his head to make room for possessive fingers. A tug on his locks draws a small moan from the scaled side, a pleasant tingling feeling radiating out from his scalp, something he wasn’t aware that he’d enjoy. To return the favour, one of Deceit’s hands slips from Logan’s shoulder to palm at his erection through his pants, and the logical side gasps into his mouth cutely as his hips push forward into Deceit’s hand involuntarily.

“I’m gonna--” Deceit starts, trying to get his words out through desperate kisses and gasps of air, “‘M gonna suck your dick, ‘kay?”

Logan just nods enthusiastically, hands gripping at Deceit’s hair harder, and their lips lock with bruising force once again. Each time one of them pulls back and dives right back in for another kiss, Deceit feels more of the familiar warmth of arousal building in his stomach, tenting his own pants the same way Logan’s currently are. The logical side’s tongue will soothingly run over Deceit’s lip after every time he nibbles or bites a little too hard on accident, making sure to say his sorry through tactility when they aren’t really able to speak anyway. 

“Your tongue. Forked. I like it,” Logan gasps into Deceit’s mouth, prim speech and proper grammar beginning to deteriorate as his whines get more needy. Deceit’s hand still works at massaging Logan through his pants, but he can tell that both of them are starting to get impatient. “I want-- wanna feel it on me.”

And there’s no way Deceit could say no to that, even when having to move away from Logan’s face gives him a vague disappointment. Logan’s lips chase after Deceit’s as they go, mixed feelings about wanting to continue making out clashing with the desperate want to have better friction where he really wants it. The logical side’s lips are bitten red and glossy, just as Deceit’s likely are, and the sight is so pretty that Deceit has to take a moment to observe the shape of his mouth as he gasps to catch his breath and how his glazed eyes stare down at Deceit with such trust behind his lightly fogged-up glasses. There’s something so picturesque about it, and that odd feeling rises up into Deceit’s chest again just for the chance to be ignored.

Pulling aside Logan’s sweatpants happens in record time, both of them eager to begin. Deceit’s almost surprised at how much he wants to do this, how much his mind is yelling at him to get Logan’s dick down his throat already, not used to feeling so mindless and lost to the moment like he is. But rather than fight it off, he latches onto it, rides the ebb and flow of the tides as they rise and fall. He told Logan to not think, just feel, and Deceit has no qualms with doing the same.

Fishing Logan out of his pants is almost nonexistent in his mind, completely overwhelmed by pure want and arousal and need. Deceit has never wanted to be on the giving end so much in his life, has never wanted to be used more than now. He allows himself to become a vessel, with the sole purpose of making Logan come. And that mindset stays with him sharp and prominent in his forethought as his forked tongue flicks out to tease at the bead of precome on the tip.

Logan’s reaction is immediate and his thoughts apparent from the way his hips jump and roll upwards to press the head of his dick against Deceit’s lips. The hand in Deceit’s hair returns to tugging, guides his head down in a way that forces his mouth to part. Logan only pushes Deceit’s head down enough that he only has a small portion of the logical side’s length resting warm and heavy on his tongue, but Deceit isn’t really in the mood for slow right now, so he immediately dives down to take Logan in deeper.

The gasp Deceit gets in return is desperate and high and absolutely lovely, exactly what he was looking for, so he continues with his ministrations until he can feel the tip touching the back of his throat. Thank god he doesn’t have a gag reflex, because it’d make this way harder than it needs to be, and he can already tell that Logan appreciates that by the way he takes an experimental thrust of his hips to see if Deceit can take him in any further.

There’s not a lot left, but that last little bit does it, and Deceit is left with his nose pressed against Logan’s skin. The other side’s breathing hitches and trembles, a soft whine tumbling off of his lips when Deceit pulls back enough to be able to tilt his head back and look up. Logan’s gaze is more heated than Deceit’s ever seen it, the openness and transparency so unlike him, and it only makes him more determined to pull off a better performance. That determination carries Deceit into complete focus as he starts bobbing his head and sliding his tongue in the most sinful ways he can manage.

“I-- _haah--_ you’re so good at this… _shit--”_ Logan stutters out, words being occasionally interrupted by soft moans and pleasured noises of surprise. The commendation is more than Deceit could have ever hoped for, and the juxtaposition of the happy fuzzy feeling it fills his heart with and the heat it adds to the coil of arousal in his gut is more intriguing than Deceit has time or want to examine. At this moment, the only thing he’s thinking about is the battle for control between the two of them, of Deceit doing his best to create pleasure and Logan holding Deceit’s head still while he fucks deep into his throat.

And funnily enough, Deceit doesn’t even find himself wishing for Roman’s presence, because Logan is here, and he has Deceit’s complete, undivided attention. Right now, he’s the most important thing, and making him feel good is Deceit’s one, simple task. The whimpers the logical side lets out as Deceit works his tongue give him the energy to keep going, to push past the tiredness and sore jaw and take the other side in deeper. Deceit’s rewards are choked gasps and pretty moans, whispers of how good he is at this, and the praise lights a different kind of warmth in his chest.

As a forked tongue flicks over the sensitive head, Logan cups Deceit’s cheek, threads his fingers in his mussed hair and gently pulls his head to the side. His breathing hitches, and a shaky whine leaves his throat as he paints Deceit’s scales and skin in pearlescent white streaks. The feeling of come on his face isn’t particularly enjoyable all on its own, but the added hand gripping at his brown locks and holding him in place for the impromptu work of art _is._

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, voice barely more than a whisper. Deceit can sort of relate, because he can already feel the effects being face-fucked will have on his speaking creeping in. The logical side’s grip abruptly loosens when he comes back to himself and realizes that the way he was pulling Deceit’s hair was bringing tears to his eyes, and he rests his palm on Deceit’s cheek once again with reverence. “I’m sorry, I should not have been so rough without asking you first. That was not very… cool of me. Are you okay? Would you like something to soothe your throat?”

For a moment, the meaning of Logan’s questions escapes him. For a moment, Logan’s voice is just a smooth melody, wispy in his ears. For a moment, there is nothing but Logan, a sheen of sweat on his forehead just barely dampening his bangs and cherry red lips and soft eyes and a gentle smile. For a moment, that feeling rushes up into Deceit’s head, blanketing his thoughts in a soothing haze that’s unidentifiable but comforting. For a moment, Deceit has a sneaking suspicion he knows what that feeling is, but then he snaps back to himself, and Logan is waiting for an answer.

“Oh-- _ahem--_ no, it’s okay. If I was uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped you, and I already said that anything was fine. Um-- can I clean my face really quick? And then, uh… I’m a little…” Deceit trails off, come-painted skin stained strawberry as he gestures at his tented pants with a nod. Logan’s lips part, eyelids falling minutely, and he only nods before swiping away a small amount of translucent white with his thumb. The treatment is more soothing, more addicting than Deceit cares to admit, and he only lingers there for a moment before standing up and heading into the bathroom to towel down his face.

He thinks he gets most of the come out from underneath his scales, since they look clean enough, glimmering under the fluorescent light of the mirror as a result of the light washing. He doesn’t keep Logan waiting for long, and he himself is impatient to find release too, so Deceit sets the washcloth down and returns as soon as he can. Logan has moved to sit on the floor in front of his bed, legs stretches out in front of him, and he motions for Deceit to come sit on his lap.

The snake-like side’s cheeks are even redder when he gets comfortable in a straddling position on Logan’s legs, arms limp but hands clutching onto the bottom of the logical side’s shirt. Logan just huffs an almost inaudible laugh as he wastes no time in pushing down Deceit’s pants enough to get access to his still very hard length, gaze amused when Deceit bites his lip and nudges his hips forward to drag his dick along the curve of Logan’s lax hand. A small puff of air blows onto Logan’s shoulder when Deceit’s head comes to rest there, forehead nuzzled into the crook of his neck expectantly.

And Logan is happy to deliver on said expectations, slim fingers putting just the right amount of pressure where Deceit wants it. He squeezes at the base, twists on the upstroke, dips the pad of his thumb to tease at the slit-- taking note of what causes a small, needy noise to get past Deceit’s filter and adjusting accordingly. He abuses whatever sensitive spots he can find, works Deceit so thoroughly and with such precision it’s as if he’s reading off of Deceit’s sex manual.

“P-Please, Lo. Wanna-- wanna come, please, please,” Deceit chants, nonsensical and quiet into Logan’s skin. The nickname doesn’t belong to Deceit-- he knows it’s rightfully Roman’s-- but he still can’t help himself, unable to push the word down before it’s already in the air unable to be taken back. A more insecure, pessimistic part of Deceit is fully convinced that Logan will take offense to it, but the logical side just hums softly and keeps going, bringing his other hand up to hold Deceit’s waist.

“You can, love. You’ve already done so well whilst helping me out, now it’s your turn,” Logan murmurs into Deceit’s ear, words so thoughtless like he doesn’t realize how he’s just shocked Deceit right to the core. Sure, Logan’s nickname wasn’t on purpose, but Logan thought it fitting to respond with a _pet name?_ The term of endearment is too gentle, too caring, feels like it should be reserved for Roman only. And yet Deceit is completely helpless against it, and that combined with the added praise sends Deceit right over the edge, breathing a highly mortifying whimper into Logan’s neck as he grips hard at the logical side’s shirt.

Logan doesn’t say anything though, only continues coaxing Deceit through the aftershocks of his climax, milking every last drop and every last tremble like it’s the oxygen he needs to be able to breathe. And breathing isn’t exactly a strong point for Deceit right now, panting around a sore throat as Logan whispers reassurances into his hair. Deceit’s thighs tense and shake with each bolt of electric pleasure wracking his body, growing more and more relaxed as the remainders of his orgasm weaken.

“You performed well, Dee. Just rest for now, okay? I’ll clean you up,” Logan tells him, voice muffled as it swims through Deceit’s head. There’s barely a weary nod managed before Logan hooks his arms underneath Deceit’s thighs and scoops him up like he weighs nothing, and honestly, that might not be too far off. Hopefully, Logan doesn’t notice, but by the way he falters, the outlook isn’t good. Deceit hopes fervently that Logan will just let it go, and thankfully, he does. The scaled side feels a plush mattress come up beneath him and then Logan’s arms are gone, the quiet lending itself to the sound of water running from the bathroom sink.

When Logan comes back with the washcloth in hand, Deceit takes a moment to catch his breath and allow his thoughts to realign themselves again. He isn’t looking to contemplate much, and he isn’t really in any danger of having to, because the feeling of Logan’s gentle hands leading the damp cloth over his skin and scales is hypnotizing, lulling him further and further into a doze. He spaces out for a while, only coming back to himself when the bed dips beside him, and he realizes that the lights have been turned out and Logan’s shirt has been traded for a sweater that he’s seen Roman wear often.

But Deceit’s too exhausted to even be jealous, and is bewildered to find that he really only holds an appreciation for how soft Logan looks rather than how he would wish to be in his place. Instead of envy, it’s just observation and endearment, and that can very quickly turn into catastrophic and familiar territory.

“Sleep here tonight. Don’t worry about Roman, he will likely just come in and join us when he is done with his quest,” Logan says as he reaches over to turn on the small fan on his desk, and Deceit is incredibly grateful for the white noise. He’s never liked silence, has never been able to get a restful sleep while bathing in it, and the soothing drone of air and mechanics puts him at peace.

“M’kay,” Deceit mumbles, too far into sleepiness to be much more coherent than that, and he doesn’t even really fret about staying. He’s never stayed before, having always forced himself to keep his distance after they’ve all finished to try to keep the feelings at bay, but he doesn’t have the brain power to honestly give a fuck about that right now. The only thing on his mind is sleep, and the nice fan noises, and the cool air soothing his radiating skin, and the way Logan leans back on his elbows and stares down at Deceit with moonlight from the window glowing in a halo around his head.

And that’s really okay, to be honest. For tonight, Deceit’s letting himself just let go of his fears and worries and sadness. It’s time for him to have a little break, a small reprieve, a moment of comfort to drive away the nightmares. To his credit, he doesn’t even flinch when Logan slowly lays down close beside him and manhandles their bodies into a more comfortable position. He’s still screaming internally (in a somewhat sleepy way), because Logan’s sweater-clad arm draped over Deceit’s waist is literally one of the best things Deceit’s ever felt while simultaneously being one of the most terrifying and unfamiliar things he’s ever felt. Sexual touches are one thing, but touches purely for tactility, for comfort and affection and kindness are a completely different story, and Deceit isn’t used to them enough to be able to feel truly normal while being subjected to them.

Thankfully, tonight is much less overwhelming than their movie night, because Deceit sort of knows what to expect now, and he’s also too tired for his body to react in a more jumpy or sensitive way. With Logan’s lanky limbs curled around his frame, holding him securely to his chest, Deceit finds his breathing shallow. Not out of arousal, but rather pure bliss, satisfied both sexually and mentally. Despite the little things, despite the unfamiliar sensation of being touched and the nerves for what might happen when Roman returns and the dread rising up as that odd feeling slowly becomes more powerful, Deceit is content.

Deceit doesn’t even realize that he fell asleep until he wakes up again, still late at night with Logan’s arms and legs still tangled with his own. His half-conscious state informs him that Roman is back, and he’s closing the door as he toes his shoes off beside it. He doesn’t bother properly dressing down, just snaps himself into a matching set of pajamas with little cartoon-y crowns on them (it’s so Roman it hurts) and turns around to get into bed.

He falters when he sees that there are two bodies in the bed, not just one, and Deceit is almost positive he’s about to wake them up and kick the snake-like side to the curb. And if he’s being honest, Deceit knows he wouldn’t even complain, because Logan is his boyfriend and _should_ be cuddling with him. In fact, Deceit is gearing up to apologize and leave when Roman cracks the brightest grin Deceit’s ever seen him wear, messy hair and strong jawline framed by white moonlight, and the sight is absolutely breathtaking.

Roman doesn’t seem to realize Deceit is awake, because he doesn’t say anything, and it’s impossible to guess what he’s going to do when he walks around to Deceit’s side of the bed instead. Or maybe it’s entirely predictable, in some ways, when Roman carefully places himself behind Deceit’s back, scooting up to him to be his big spoon, and now he’s being held by the two people he really cares about the most (other than Thomas, of course) at once. It’s dizzying, and incredible, and utterly heartbreaking. 

Roman nuzzles his forehead into Deceit’s fluffed-up hair, sighing happily as he reaches over to take Logan’s limp hand. His thumb rubs soothingly at Logan’s skin, background noise to the way he introduces his legs in the tangled web that is Logan and Deceit’s own, like he’s the final piece slotting right into place. Deceit’s love for the prince completely chokes him up, almost causes tears to well up in his eyes, but he forces them away with the contempt of someone who is destined to lose in the end.

When Deceit returns to the dark sides’ area of the mindscape the next morning to hang out with Remus for the day, he barely manages to dismiss the nosy side’s invasive questions about his sore throat, hoarse voice, and distant look in his eyes.

* * *

The next six months are a whirlwind of confusion and trepidation.

It’s like as time goes on, Roman and Logan get more and more forward with their attempts to spend time with him. Of course they still have the sex, which is at _least_ weekly if not more frequent, but it’s the more tame activities he partakes in that really haunt him the most.

It’s when Logan and Roman invite him to eat dinner with him on a picnic in the Imagination, when they all play video games together when they’re bored, when they have those amazing and terrifying movie nights where the two of them pull Deceit close and don’t let go until the movie’s over. It’s when Deceit and Logan discuss anything and everything from classic literature to wild conspiracy theories as Roman drapes himself over whatever’s-- or _whoever’s--_ nearest, interjecting occasionally to make a remark about how boring they are or to plant an even wilder conspiracy theory as a seed into their conversation. It’s when Deceit stops being too scared to stay the night, when he’s so sleepy and fucked-out after sex that he just curls up with them in one of their beds and basks in their presence until he slips out to return to his cold, lonely room early in the morning. And most terrifyingly, it’s when he stays the night even when they _don’t_ have sex, when he just sleeps there with them just because they let him.

They stop having to invite him to sleep there after a while, because it starts to become routine. They spend nearly every single day together, participating in some activity or another, whether it be competitive or relaxing or sexual in nature. And when the day is over, when all three of them have their eyelids drooping and their heads bobbing as they try to stay awake, they retire to whoever’s room is closest and cuddle up together for the night. 

At first, even just the fact that this has become a normality for Deceit absolutely horrified him, because this amount of closeness means fostering his romantic feelings rather than suppressing them for his and their own good, and that also puts him more at risk of being found out. But Deceit has always been weak, has never put up much of a fight when it came to matters of the heart, so he can’t really ever say no. Especially not to them.

And something in Deceit breaks when he realizes that Roman’s “him” has become Roman _and Logan’s_ “them”, because this means he’s getting incredibly close to an understanding about himself and Logan that he’s going to immediately regret. But, as has been established, Deceit is a complete and utter coward, an absolute bumbling idiot, so rather than face those feelings head-on, he’s convinced himself that they don’t exist. It’s easier that way.

What’s even worse about these new arrangements, their new sleeping habits in particular, is that it’s completely fucked up Deceit’s ability to fend for himself. After these months upon months of constantly being around other people and having positive social relationships with them, something he’s never really known from the light sides (and Thomas, and Virgil now, too) before, the rare times he’s without that contact is harrowing. 

When he doesn’t have anyone there with him, he’s constantly cold, shivering and closed-off as he’s locked inside his own mind. He just kind of floats through those days in a daze, barely perceiving anything that’s happening around him, but that isn’t really saying much, either. He’s always in his room then, which is empty and silent and struck with those hateful, golden voices, no movement apart from the rustling of Deceit shifting to dissociate in a different position.

When he doesn’t have that warmth, that physical touch, he can barely live without it. And that extends most notably to his sleeping, which has become completely nonexistent when Roman and Logan aren’t around. While his blanket nest used to feel like safety, now that Deceit has felt Roman’s strong arms, it’s pathetic in comparison. Hugging Patton’s bunny plushie is nothing compared to burying his face into Logan’s chest. Even Virgil’s hoodie can’t replace the warmth of two real, living, breathing bodies surrounding him, heartbeats beating gently in time with his own until none of them can be told apart.

Along with this, the nightmares come back.

They aren’t always the same, but they always hit wherever it hurts most. Some iteration of Roman or Logan calling him out for being a useless, worthless liar about his feelings, of them kicking him out, of them casting him away to shrivel into nothingness all alone. Memories of the day Virgil left, face twisted into a sneer as he hightailed it out of there as fast as he could, leaving Deceit to sob on the floor as he watched his best friend’s bedroom door shimmer out of existence. Or Thomas telling him every hateful thing Deceit thinks about himself but has never wanted to hear from his host, from the person he cares about most and looks up to despite how Thomas dislikes him. 

All of them are equally awful, and they’re always there to greet Deceit when he shoots up in a panic, knocked out of a fitful sleep on the rare times he manages to drift off. And he’s always alone when he wakes up, sweating and shaking and sobbing so violently his vision spots and coughs rip at his throat. During the worst of them, he wakes up screaming for someone, screaming for Virgil or Logan or Roman or Thomas. It doesn’t matter in the end, because they’d never be able to hear him all the way down here, by himself in this cold, dark, lonely place. And although Thomas would never actually hear his calls outside the mindscape because of the mental filter Deceit established long ago as a byproduct of his function as Deceit, sometimes he’s tempted to rise up in the real world, wake Thomas up, and clutch onto him for dear life until he feels safe enough to let go.

Even with all of the pain that comes with his love for Roman and everything he’s ignoring about Logan, even with how he wishes to be closer with Remus and for Patton to not hate him and for Virgil to be his best friend again, the one thing Deceit wants the very most is to be accepted by Thomas. He just wants his host to understand him, to lift him out of this dark hellscape and into the light and warmth that he needs as someone who is not only cold-blooded but _really fucking lonely,_ and to be able to just ask for a hug from his host and receive one without the hesitation or wariness that’s always present in his demeanour whenever he even gets a glimpse of Deceit. He just wants to have that closeness with Thomas, to have the understanding and affection and self-love that he gives to every other side.

Even though he knows he really doesn’t deserve it, he still desperately, painfully yearns for it.

So the nights alone in his room are hard. And sometimes he can go days without sleeping, pushing himself through the bone-deep exhaustion to avoid the nightmares until Roman or Logan come to invite him to hang out again, when he conks out as soon as he hits the pillow and wakes up in the middle of the day to one of them giggling at his bleary eyes and wild locks. But those moments that he gets with Roman and Logan are worth it, that friendliness and affection given to him so graciously acting like a lifeline, the medicine he needs to stay alive. And he’d really be a fool to give that up.

* * *

After how this past half-year has been going, seeing one of the two at his door doesn’t even surprise Deceit anymore. Rather than wallow in anxiety until one or both of them arrived, he now counts down the moments until that now-familiar knock comes at the door, excited to spend time with them but also desperate to escape the hell that is waiting around in his room.

Neither Roman nor Logan have ever been inside his bedroom, or really even seen it given the way Deceit never fully opens his door and he always blocks off as much of it from view as possible. Deceit isn’t sure if they’d be disgusted or pity him, and he doesn’t know which is worse, so he’s just trying to avoid that possibility altogether. It’s easier if they think that his room is the same as theirs, normal and furnished with a big personality rather than the mock prison cell it imitates.

That stays the same now, and Roman doesn’t even need to say anything before Deceit is out the door and striding beside him on the path to the light sides’ area of the mindscape. This walk has become like second nature, and Deceit could probably do it in his sleep. Well, if he ever slept while he was down here, anyway.

Logan is waiting for them when they arrive in his room, as per the usual, and he’s simply lounging on the bed as he runs his fingertips delicately along his own inner thighs and waist with his eyes slipped closed. He likes to do this, to feel himself and just relax before sex, and Deceit theorizes that it’s because he needs a while to slip into a more fitting mindset for what they do. It depends on the day, because sometimes Logan is just as deep in submission as Deceit can get, but other times, it’s simply to get himself prepared to mold Deceit’s body in his hands like putty. Both versions of him are equally tantalizing.

Deceit deduces purely from Logan’s motions that tonight, it seems he’s going to have a bit more control than usual, and will hover in a generally neutral zone. Logan never really goes full dom, because taking orders from Roman comes so naturally to him, but he doesn’t usually go full sub either, because having two submissives would not only be a bit of a handful for Roman, but Logan likes being able to make Deceit come undone because of him more often than not. Therefore, he operates in a grey area, somewhere in the middle of Deceit and Roman, and he’s the perfect complement to both of their styles and what they seek out during sex.

That same familiarity in the two’s dynamic is present now, putting Deceit immediately a hundred times more at ease in the situation. Of course he’s much more used to the sex now than he was a few months ago, but seeing Logan and Roman waiting there for _him_ still makes him feel both incredibly lucky and incredibly nervous, because he’s pretty sure that losing this, losing _them,_ would actually kill him inside.

“What do you want to do today?” Logan asks as the bedroom door shuts behind them, cracking an eye open languidly as he trails his hands on the inside of his legs seemingly without a care in the world. Seeing Logan like that is refreshing, because his calm and comfort extends as an aura into Deceit, and it always makes this easier. What’s the point in worrying about tomorrow, when he has Roman and Logan here, gentle and rough and ready to succumb to pleasure?

“I have some ideas,” Roman hums, opening his jacket up but letting it sit on his shoulders. His torso is on full display, mouth-watering in the way each curve and dip and line of his body rolls into one another like waves. Logan just raises an eyebrow and then closes his eye again, resuming ghosting his hands over his thighs and dangerously close to his awakening erection. It’s not much, not yet, but Logan has always been very easy to get in the mood.

“Where do you want me?” Deceit asks, voice low and much less nervous than the first few times he was here. They’ve sort of fallen into patterns with this area of their time spent together, going down a checklist of what they need to do or take stock of. Firstly, it’s determined who will be participating-- usually all three of them, but there have been times where one of the other two has been unable to attend and it’s left Deceit alone with one of them. Secondly, if they’re all there, they figure out what role Logan takes, since his is arguably the most important. He’s the mediator between the two, acts as a guide even with Roman’s domineering tastes, so what end of the spectrum he’s on will certainly affect the scene. Thirdly, they assign physical positions, which have varied drastically over the past few months. Right now, they’re on step three, and everything after that is lost to feeling.

“Mmm… come lay with Lo,” Roman says finally, partially distracted by something unseen. He seems lost in thought, which usually results in some-- well, _creative_ ideas entering their ministrations. The prince’s eyes slip closed as he concentrates on something, and Deceit simply ignores it in favour of plopping himself down beside Logan. They’ve learned by now to just let Roman be when he’s trying to come up with something new, and it gives Deceit time to make himself comfortable.

He snaps himself out of his clothing, not caring enough to physically take it off, and he’s left only in his boxers. Deceit leans back against the headboard and brushes some of Logan’s bangs out of his eyes, trailing his hand down to ruck up his oversized sleep shirt (likely Roman’s) and join the logical side in just feeling his body. Logan seems to enjoy it, what with the way his eyelids flutter closed and he lets out a contented sigh. While Roman is still thinking, Deceit reaches down to gently pull off Logan’s glasses and lean over him to set them on the side table. 

“Oh,” Roman says suddenly, soft and in a tone much unlike him. Deceit looks over to see that he’s looking at _them,_ with gentle eyes and a smile that looks so happy it’s like he’s just gotten the greatest news of his life. The love in his expression is nearly unbearable to look at, and a lump begins to build in Deceit’s throat because he knows that it will never be for him. Of course Roman loves Logan, he’s his _boyfriend,_ but it still hurts seeing how open and honest the prince is with expressing it. It almost seems unfair that Deceit is sat here, made to watch as someone he loves so dearly directs their own love to someone else.

But self-hatred is tiring, and the time they spend together is supposed to be a stress-reliever, so Deceit shakes his head and tries to relax. Thankfully, Roman offers a well-timed distraction by finally summoning the thing he has assumedly been concentrating on this entire time. The red, pill-shaped silicone drops into his hand, connected by wire to a remote, and Deceit can already figure out where this is going. Logan hums an approving noise, one of his hands lazily coming up to loosely intertwine with Deceit’s own.

Without a word, Roman strides over to the bed, kicking his clothes off as he goes. It’s always nice to be able to openly take in Roman’s body, to appreciate all of the perfection it’s blanketed in. And it’s not perfect when going by societal beauty standards, but it is to Deceit. Every line and blemish, every mark or bruise, every small scar gained by his adventures in the imagination, they all paint a perfectly imperfect picture of a truly wonderful person. All of the things that make Roman unique only serve to bolster Deceit’s love for him even more, and the way he stands out as a true individual is part of the reason why Deceit was even drawn to him in the first place.

Before, Deceit only thought of the prince as overbearing, noisy, and annoying, but with time, that shifted. It’s not that love magically made those attributes go away-- he _is_ overbearing, he _is_ noisy, he _is_ annoying-- but it rather changed the properties of them, his perception of them. Yes, Roman is overbearing, but he’s also caring and doting. Yes, Roman is noisy, but he’s also outspoken and full of life. Yes, Roman is annoying, but he’s also charming and unafraid to be who he really is, even when he finds it hard to believe in himself. Roman is who he is, as imperfect as he can be, and that in itself is what makes him so truly perfect in Deceit’s eyes.

But these are not new developments, they’re things Deceit has thought meticulously about in the quiet of his own bedroom. Thinking about Roman, while painful, is often the only way he can get through his day without having a breakdown, so it’s worth it to him. And the fact that Deceit is lucky enough to have the opportunity to spend time with not only him, but Logan too, is enough to keep some of the worse thoughts at bay. Patton and Virgil may still hate him, and Remus may not pay attention to him, and Thomas may despise that he exists (that he’s even alive), but if Roman and Logan at least tolerate his existence enough to give him the reprieve from loneliness, to save him from falling into himself, then Deceit will do anything in his power to keep that.

And for right now, that comes in the form of a small grin as Roman clambers up onto the bed, settling himself between Deceit’s legs before prying them open. Logan turns over onto his side to watch curiously, placing his head on Deceit’s shoulder when he scoots down to lay more comfortably. He doesn’t seem bothered by the bumpy texture of the scales below his head, so Deceit says nothing, only waits patiently with his legs spread apart for Roman.

“Logan, give me your hand,” Roman commands, placing the vibrator in his hand down before replacing it with Logan’s fingers. With a wave, lube is summoned onto the digits, dripping clear down onto his palm. “Prep him.”

Logan only nods an affirmative, then reaches down between Deceit’s legs to prod slick fingers at his entrance. The lube is sort of cold, so Deceit grumbles a bit, but it quickly moves to the back of his mind when Logan slips his pointer finger inside. He doesn’t waste much time, immediately pumping in an out enough to get him ready for another finger, and he keeps going until three fingers are buried inside him to his knuckles. The feeling is much more familiar now than it used to be, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still feel just as good as the first time, and the beginnings of that blistering heat beginning to stir in his stomach. Deceit turns his head and buries it in Logan’s hair, nuzzling closer when the stretch causes his breath to hitch.

“My good boys,” Roman coos, rubbing circles into Deceit’s inner thigh with his thumb. The words cause Deceit to involuntarily roll his hips up and onto Logan’s fingers to meet the thrust of his hand, seeking out more friction. Roman tuts, nudging Logan hand away and out of Deceit, and the loss draws out a whine only to be lost in Logan’s locks. He doesn’t have to wait for long though, because Roman grips onto Deceit’s stomach, wrapping his hand around the scaled portion of his waist, and then presses the lube-covered vibrator into him slowly.

The feeling of the silicone is a bit different, not like anything Deceit’s ever felt before, and for a moment, he’s unsure about whether he likes it or not. Roman’s thumb enters with the pill, pushing it in enough to stop right when it hits his prostate, clued in by the gasp and eager jump of his hips when the vibrator reaches the little bundle of nerves. Deceit doesn’t wonder for much longer, though, because then Roman turns it on, and the immediate assault on his senses rips a choked, sharp moan from his lungs.

“Oh, fuck,” Deceit gasps, any semblance of intelligible communication dissolving into a desperate, overwhelmed whine. It’s one thing to have fingers pressing into that spot, but the vibrator is different. Less painful, but more intense, not needing to jab at the spot to stimulate it. The pill can just rest there, the vibrations doing all the work, and the attack causes the muscles in his legs to twitch and jump. “Ro--”

Whatever he was going to say is completely lost, ejected from his mind to make room for more incoherent thoughts revolving around the pleasure, Logan’s little licks and bites on his collarbones, Roman’s soothing reassurances and praise. Nothing else really seems to matter right now, just Roman’s voice and the scent of Logan’s shampoo and his own tensing legs.

Deceit comes much quicker and easier than he thought he would’ve, mostly out of surprise. Stickiness lands on his stomach, draping white over Logan’s resting hand, and he brings it up to lick the come off. Deceit can’t do much but watch him and whine, attempting to catch his breath. Roman waves away the mess when he’s sure Deceit is completely done, when his thighs untense and his breathing slows slightly.

“‘M sorry, didn’t mean to-- to come that fast,” Deceit struggles to get out, steadying his laboured breathing the best he can all the while. Roman only snorts out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he switches off the vibrator. The relief is instant, allowing him to come down fully from his high. The calm makes it easier to speak, easier to inhale and exhale. “You didn’t tell me I could. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I expected it,” Roman soothes, tone laced with something Deceit can’t pinpoint. That single word is too much, the term of endearment hitting Deceit right in the heart. Pet names are still pretty new, and it’s a lot to handle every time one is introduced into conversation, but he can usually hide it. Usually. Of course, since he doesn’t want to give away how much it affects him now, he unintentionally lets out a soft whine, arms coming up to hide his flustered demeanour and reddened cheeks.

“What-- oh, is it… baby? You like when I call you baby?” Roman asks, teasing and far, far too knowing for his own good. Logan sits up beside him, hands coming up to gently remove the snake-like side’s arms from his face. Deceit’s whines get more affronted, a petulant pout taking over his expression. He can’t make eye contact, not with the way Logan smirks and Roman giggles, and the attention is too unfair. He has to fix this, even out the playing field, and the only way he can think of to do that is--

 _Ah._ Perfect.

Without so much as a warning, Deceit shoots up from where he was previously laying before, now recovered enough to be quick. Taking advantage of Roman’s shock and lagging response time, Deceit quickly turns him around and switches their position, shoving the prince down into the mattress with a triumphant grin. He wastes no time humouring Roman’s bewildered spluttering, pushing his legs up to the side to give him better access. Deceit puts his face down, dangerously close to Roman’s dick, and he just takes in the offended look on the prince’s face.

“You-- You _brat,”_ Roman laughs, exasperated and amused. It seems that the thing Deceit is weakest for is pet names, because oh _boy_ does that one send heat straight to his abdomen. The declaration only builds Deceit’s confidence, though, lending him the courage to snark right back.

“You wouldn’t shut up,” Deceit replies, heterochromatic eyes playful as he thumbs at Roman’s perineum. The snake-like side relishes in the way his eyebrows twitch, how he tries desperately to appear unaffected. Logan just watches them, a poorly-hidden smile on his face, clearly amused at the way Deceit is rebelling. Roman thinks he’s a brat, huh? Well, then he supposes that’s exactly what he’ll have to be.

So instead of going for Roman’s length like he expects, Deceit dives down further, flicks once before pushing his forked tongue as far inside of Roman as it’ll go. The gasp the prince lets out is in all likelihood completely accidental, as is the high-pitched squeak of indignation that tumbles into a soft moan when Deceit licks up into him. The combination of taste and smell is odd, mixing vague sweetness with a chemically-coded spice, and although it’s unfamiliar, Deceit doesn’t really mind it that much.

 _“Fuck--_ okay, of course he’s good with his tongue. He’s pa-part snake. Okay. Okay. Fuck. Oh god, _please--”_ Roman whines, rambling to himself endearingly as Deceit flicks his tongue inside him, reaching to just the right spot. Deceit is maybe a little bit smug at the knowledge that he can make Roman take a very similar place as where he usually puts Deceit, and it just makes this all so much more worthwhile. All Deceit ever really wants is to make Roman and Logan feel good, to make sure they have a good time no matter what, so being able to do this for Roman is just as good as anything _they_ could do to _him._

His ministrations continue, only spurred on by the little moans that slip out past Roman’s lips. His eyebrows screw together each time Deceit moves his tongue in a way that sparks pleasure running through his limbs, creating such a nice picture that Deceit could look at it forever. Roman’s hand slides down from Logan’s arm to tangle in Deceit’s hair, pushing his head down even closer between his legs. The treatment is kind of rough, and the tug of those fingers in his hair is a tiny bit painful, and it all is even more of an unexpected turn-on.

But before Deceit can speed up, change his angle to make Roman come too, the buzzing vibrations start up inside of Deceit again, resuming the stimulation to his prostate. Deceit gasps out a whimper, high and desperate and overwhelmed, and his eyes blow wide as he jolts violently. His tongue slips out of Roman as he jerks his head backward, trembling and gasped breathing coming back with a vengeance. His back arches and his hands shake, scrambling uselessly to get away from the vibrator, but it’s pressed securely inside of him and won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Deceit looks up at Logan with rapidly hazing eyes, betrayed, barely making out the remote in his hand and smugly raised eyebrow. Roman has a shit-eating grin on his face, triumphant even with his unsteady breathing. There’s nowhere Deceit can go, nothing he can do with the overstimulation, forcing him back into full hardness and renewed arousal through his tiredness. He doesn’t even really register it when Roman picks him up and manhandles him back into his first position, switching their roles again. He probably wouldn’t have even fought back against it if he could’ve, anyway.

“That’s kinda what you get for pulling that stunt, hm?” Roman tells him, confidence and control fully restored. Logan seems happy to just let it all play out, teasing the remote control in between his fingers at a leisurely pace. It’s all becoming so much, too much, all of this sensory input attacking him from every angle. Deceit can’t really help it when tears slip from his eyes, rolling down the side of his face and painting his dark lashes in crystals.

“Oh, _baby._ Sweetheart, it’s okay. You did so good eating me out, alright? It felt amazing. Thank you for trying to make me feel good, too. Please don’t cry, my love,” Roman consoles, concern written all over his face. His hands are gentle where they cup Deceit’s cheeks and wipe the tears away, and his eyes are passionate where they bore into Deceit with such care it chokes him up. It’s not like Deceit is actually, truly upset, but the stimulation is overwhelming, and being shocked deeper into subspace left him with no control over his emotions. He’s not sad, not really, just suddenly overcome with how much love he feels for the man above him.

It’s embarrassing, sure. Absolutely mortifying. In any other situation, Deceit would be hightailing it out of there. But this is Roman and Logan, the two who have been so kind to him as to allow him to be around them, to hang out with them, to be so intimate when he doesn’t deserve it at all. They may tease him, and they probably still don’t like him very much, but they trust him, and they’d never judge him for something like this, something out of his control. So Deceit lets the tears run out, clutches onto Roman’s arms with a shaky breath, and opens his mouth in a whisper.

“Fuck me, please.”

The pure arousal and wanting shining in Roman’s eyes is prominent and isolated even through the blur of moisture. Even when everything swims around him, Roman is still there, smile like an angel and eyes like the devil. That duality crashes into everything he does, and it shows when he carefully pulls the vibrator out but then thrusts into Deceit in one fell swoop. It shows when he fucks into the snake-like side roughly, but readily breathes in his choked, high noises and desperate whimpers with searching lips and searing kisses. It shows when he pulls at Deceit’s lip with his teeth, growling lowly as Deceit locks his legs together behind Roman’s back, but then lays gentle hands on Deceit’s waist and Logan’s thigh.

Roman hikes Logan’s leg up by his knee to lay bent over Deceit’s stomach, allowing him to press closer and slowly rub his clothed erection into Deceit’s scaled hip. The added friction to the partition between shimmering scales and sweat-sheened skin is dizzying, jumping him much closer to another climax. Logan’s hand is added to the mix, using Deceit’s waist as an anchor to roll his hips into the scaled side at a better angle for him, and the softest, quietest moan he’s ever heard from Logan tumbles right into Deceit’s ear like a muted melody.

The touch of Logan’s fingertips on Deceit’s bare hipbone is like a soothing balm to the tired nerves still firing away in his body with every attack to his prostate, and having the two of him both on him at once again brings an even redder flush to Deceit’s cheeks. Roman’s treatment doesn’t slow even once, something that is actually quite impressive, but Deceit can’t fully appreciate it right now when he’s this close to coming.

And that’s really the last thought he has before he’s _actually_ coming, for the second time today. He knows that they like to push his limits, and this sort of thing isn’t too new for him, but it’s still a lot to take in every single time it happens. His body is much less reactive than before, only able to manage weakly curled toes, trembling fingers, and a soft moan, but the climax is still just as good as before. It might even be better, because there’s something about being forced to come again so soon after the first time that gets him needy and desperate.

But the exhaustion is definitely present and does take its toll, so Deceit can barely keep his eyes open after he’s done. His arms and legs flop uselessly to the bed, muscles too tired to stay up, and Roman pulls out slowly. Deceit makes an unhappy noise at the feeling, not liking how it leaves him empty and clenching around air, but Logan’s soft kisses on his shoulder, jawline, and lips make the discomfort melt away.

“You did amazing, Dee,” Roman murmurs, brushing his sweat-dampened hair out of the way to give him a peck on the forehead. His lips linger for a moment as he breathes in Deceit’s afterglow, a wispy silence descending over the room and the three of them as they catch their breath. The quiet is comfortable, allows for a couple minutes of untensing and recuperation. The more Deceit allows his body to relax, the more he starts to fall asleep, which is something he's pretty used to by now. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s always so exhausted after sex, but he figures that when combined with how he barely sleeps when he’s not around them, it doesn’t exactly add up to a particularly restful picture, and it’s basically his body’s way of saying, “Hey, you need to get some fucking sleep, moron!”

But it would be rude to fall asleep before they’re all finished, so Deceit forces himself to stay awake. Roman’s sitting back on his heels, trying to catch his breath, and Logan puts his head right back into the crook of Deceit’s neck, soft sighs breathed onto his neck as Logan palms himself through his boxers. He hasn’t really gotten much attention yet, which Deceit feels bad about, so it’s all he can do to direct Roman to make Logan feel good in his stead.

“Ro,” Deceit mumbles, voice barely there, “fuck Lo like you fucked me.”

Logan’s lips part at Deceit’s words, but before he’s able to say anything, Roman is nodding as he shifts forward and grabs onto his hips with both hands. All the logical side can manage is a perplexed, trusting gaze before Roman is slamming into him, using his body as a grip to thrust into him better. The pace is almost exactly the same as it was with Deceit, like Roman is picking up where he left off but with Logan, and the thought is more appealing than it reasonably should be.

Logan probably doesn’t expect the quick, rough start either, because his panting becomes intermingled with close-mouthed whines and soft noises and fingers scrambling to find purchase anywhere they can. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are wide, an expression that would usually signify worry, but now, it’s more along the lines of someone being overwhelmed out of nowhere and is attempting to adjust to the new situation. 

Deceit is only a little bit surprised that Roman complied so easily and so quickly, but Roman has always had a much more extensive libido and stamina than he or Logan, so it’s more in his nature than one might expect. Besides, neither he nor Logan has come yet, and Deceit’s already come _twice,_ so they deserve to focus on themselves for a while. Deceit is already interjecting into their relationship and quality time enough; he’d be even worse of a person than he already is to deny them that intimacy.

Logan’s forehead presses into Deceit’s collarbone hard, eyes screwed shut and chest trembling with each breath, and Deceit wonders if it’s more of an attempt to hide his moans than anything else. Either way, it’s still cute how Logan automatically defaults to cuddling up close to someone else when he’s overwhelmed, not just during sex. Any time Logan can’t find his words, whether through embarrassment or love or sleepiness, his reflexive reaction is to bury himself in the arms of whoever’s closest, to hide away from his inability to function properly while simultaneously seeking affection from them.

And Deceit could never say no to that, so he puts aside his own weariness and links his pinned hand with Logan’s free one, then turns onto his side to face Logan and drapes his arm over the logical side’s waist. Deceit can’t really hide how much he truly does care for Logan, even though it’s all he can do to push down that familiar, dread-inducing feeling when he’s around him. That simple concern for his wellbeing and enjoyment of spending time with him, the bliss of just being around him, it all shines so brightly in his actions. And when Deceit unknowingly looks at Logan with a look he usually only displays for Roman, when he glances up at said prince only to see him staring right back with an unreadable expression through damp bangs, things start to fall into place. Some very terrifying things that Deceit will continue to ignore.

Somewhere during the turmoil in Deceit’s thoughts, Roman comes, hips stuttering in their rhythm until they slow to a stop. Logan just makes a displeased noise, unhappy with how the pleasure has ceased, and Roman looks down at his boyfriend guiltily.

“Sorry, Starshine. That wasn’t intentional. Here,” Roman says, voice like honey as he holds Logan’s leg up from under the knee. More nicknames, and it’s shocking to not feel envious of it. In fact, Deceit is rather endeared, thinking the name fitting for the boy so enraptured by the stars that he has a full galaxy stretching endlessly in the ceiling above them. It’s that same galaxy that Deceit stares into sometimes after sex, when he’s having trouble falling asleep so he observes the stars above instead. And space is beautiful, sure, but it doesn’t even hold a candle to Logan.

The logical side lifts his head up ever so slightly to peek out at Roman, exhaling softly when the prince’s fingers slip into him to replace what he’s lost. Although it’s not exactly the same as being truly fucked, fingers allow for more control, and Roman uses that control to immediately start working him up again. Logan’s waited too long to have the attention on himself, to be able to finally come, so Roman gets right to it with zero complaints.

And it’s like this, with Logan’s hips grinding onto Roman’s hand as the latter just smirks and continues thrusting slick fingers in and out, Deceit comes to a realization, finally begrudgingly puts a name to that feeling he’s been pushing down deep into himself where he can’t ever reach it or acknowledge it.

As Logan pants heavily, arches his back with an uncharacteristically desperate whimper when Roman’s fingers move just right inside him and blindly reaches over to clutch at Deceit’s hand, Deceit realizes. He realizes when Logan swallows hard and his eyebrows pull together, when he pushes down onto Roman’s knuckles urgently. He realizes when Logan’s shining, hazy eyes snap open and his lips go slack around a gasp at a curl of Roman’s fingers, as he stutters around air and his quiet voice goes even higher and even needier. He realizes when Logan takes in a sharp breath, when his trembling fingers dig into Deceit’s palm and his body tenses before he comes hard on his own abdomen. He realizes when Logan moans shakily and just as softly as he rides out the aftershocks, when he nuzzles wearily into Roman’s comforting palm and his smooth legs fall slowly to rest on the bed. He realizes when Logan wearily adjusts his head to rest more comfortably in the crook of Deceit’s neck, laying a tiny kiss on the scales there with a soft, tired smile as his grip on Deceit’s hand becomes less like an anchor and more like a promise.

Deceit realizes, watching Logan, that he has fallen desperately, hopelessly in love with him, too.

* * *

Deceit manages to avoid them for six days before he gives up.

Those six days are arguably some of the worst he’s ever spent away from the two of them, way up there in the ranks of Deceit’s Worst Memories. They live among the likes of the day Virgil joined the light sides, when his best friend looked at him with nothing more than contempt as he left him with only Remus for comfort (and anyone who knows Remus knows that he is the _opposite_ of comforting). They’re catalogued neatly above that one Christmas where Deceit tried to put presents for the others under the tree and Virgil took one look at them and then threw them away. 

This past week is only overshadowed by the day Deceit truly first met Thomas, months before he actually appeared in a video. Deceit was too afraid to try and talk to Virgil after he left about his worsening mental state out of fear the anxious side would call him a liar, so he rose up in the real world when Thomas was preparing to sleep. Deceit intended on just introducing himself and asking for advice, but Thomas immediately regarded him with fear and disgust for his appearance, and he was shunned without a second thought. Deceit made sure Thomas didn’t remember that encounter before he cried himself to sleep in his room.

And while that is probably the lowest Deceit has ever been, this past week has been pretty bad too. 

In all honesty, it’s not very different from the way things used to be, from the days where he’d drift from one week to the next not registering anything other than the voices. Those swirling, golden streams of glittery lies were the only thing to keep him company after Virgil left, and even more so when Remus’ room moved to his brother’s. The nightmares were common then, too, the only thing disrupting the dull routine. It was the same cycle every single day, of sleeping or staring at the wall until Thomas needed him (without him knowing, of course) and then promptly resuming his near-catatonic state when he was done. He didn’t really eat then, either, and as summoning food takes a lot of energy, it wasn’t worth the effort. He was too terrified of the others to rise up into the shared kitchen and grab something, so he went years slowly wasting away the more time went on. They don’t technically need to eat to keep existing, but Thomas gave them very human characteristics and properties, so the effect of malnourishment on them is exactly the same bar actually dying because of it.

The monotony of his life was debilitating, not only because of how little social contact he had, but also because of how it only exacerbated the deep depression he had fallen into. Being alone and hungry all the time was the last thing he needed, but it was all he knew. Virgil was gone, and Remus never bothered to check on him, so he was left in the silence. And although the absence of sound is awful, and grates on Deceit’s ears even though there’s nothing really there, the lying voices were worse.

Deceit doesn’t really understand those streams of shimmering gold that float around his room sometimes, but he does know what they do. They carry voices with them, voices so low you could barely hear them and yet so loud you could never block them out. They tell you all sorts of lies and placations, convince you of things that aren’t true. Those voices tell him that he _is_ good enough, that he isn’t as worthless as Thomas thinks he is, that he’s not evil for existing. They tell him that he’s just trying to help, that he keeps Thomas alive, that it’s not his fault Virgil hates him. They tell him that he should stay alive. He doesn’t listen to them.

There are a lot of things Deceit regrets. He regrets not forcing himself to push past the constant exhaustion and weight put upon him to leave his room and try to get better. He regrets not attempting to destroy his villainous persona, regrets trying to seem scary and mysterious because he’s too terrified of opening up to someone only for them to stomp on his heart just like Virgil did. He regrets not ever trying to get help again after that night with Thomas, and at the same time, he also regrets ever going in the first place. But most of all, he regrets ever leaving his room that one morning, and as a result, falling foolishly in love with Roman.

Dealing with isolation and depression is already difficult enough, but adding unrequited love into the mix made it _dangerous._ In his room, there’s nothing to stop his mind from running wild, from jumping between every awful situation it can come up with in a self-destructive frenzy. So many nights he spent curled up on the floor in the corner of his room, seeing nothing but all of the ways Roman could reject him, each one worse than the last. For someone with other mental issues on their plate, Deceit did _not_ need anxiety to be added to the list, not after Virgil.

But here he is, just as much of a cowardly idiot as he was back then. That cowardice has lent itself to an absolutely terrible week. It’s nearly identical to how it was then, except this time, there’s one glaring difference.

Now he knows what he’s missing.

And he’s missing them. Roman and Logan, the _two_ people he’s in love with, the _two_ people he can never have. Deceit could never have it easy, huh? He already had a stupid, impossible crush before, and now he has two. Both recipients of which are dating _each other._ Honestly, could this get any worse? 

The love he holds for the both of them are different in a lot of ways, specific to the owner, which only makes it harder to deal with. Deceit has loved Roman for years. He’s adored him dutifully from the sidelines, drank up every silly joke and awful nickname and beaming smile the prince had to offer, and got nothing in return. Despite not speaking to him really ever before their new arrangement, Deceit feels like he really knows Roman, like he’s been there alongside him every step of the way.

And then there’s Logan, who Deceit hadn’t really ever considered romantically until recently. Before, when he learned about he and Roman’s relationship, all he felt for the logical side was envy. Pure, hateful jealousy. Not hate toward Logan (although sometimes he thought it was), but toward himself for getting himself into such a predicament in the first place. And then they started hanging out with him, started to get Deceit out of his room, and his feelings for Logan flipped like a light switch. One moment, he was wishing to be the one hugging Roman in Logan’s place, and the next, he was wishing to be the one hugging _Logan_ in _Roman’s_ place. And those feelings only grew stronger and stronger, completely ignored and pushed down so he wouldn’t have to face the painful truth that he now is in love with _two people,_ two of the most ironic crushes he could have, and he can’t do anything about it.

So that leaves Deceit with nothing when he starts avoiding them, desperate to do the right thing here. Not clueing them in on his real feelings is the best option he has, because they don’t deserve for Deceit to bother their relationship with that kind of pathetic behaviour. They’re already happy together, and they don’t need Deceit shoehorning himself in out of a need for attention. 

It also means that at least Deceit isn’t lying to them anymore, that he isn’t taking advantage of their kindness to get what he wants. They told him at the beginning that this was no strings attached, that romantic feelings weren’t welcome in their arrangement. And he still went on with it despite that, desperate for some sort of sick validation, proving that he really is just a no-good, lying snake. Now they don’t have to be deceived anymore, even though it hurts like hell to let them go. 

Now that Deceit’s alone again, it’s back to that same routine-- sleep, dissociate until Thomas needs him, sleep some more-- but it’s worse this time. There’s the nightmares added back into the mix, which have extended past just sleeping, bleeding into when he’s awake. And since he never really sleeps anymore either, they’re always there. Shadows creeping in at the edges of his vision, hunger pains gnawing at him and leaving him with no energy to even move. Maybe the daytime nightmares are hallucinations; maybe they’re just his imagination bringing his worst thoughts to life. The images he sees in those six days are some of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen, scarring to those who are unfamiliar with it, and it constantly leaves his body wracked with shivers and sobs.

But he never once considered leaving, never once considered joining them again, because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. And of course, since Deceit is actually trying to be strong for once, trying to make things right and at least do _one_ good thing for others, Roman has to come along and bowl over his plans without a care in the world.

The knock comes during one of the times Deceit has set aside for sleep (despite it not being restful in the slightest), and he just barely manages to snap away the sweat and stress of the inevitable nightmare and replace it with clean versions of his regular clothing through his exhaustion. He doesn’t have any energy left to do anything, what with the nightmares and the lack of sleep and the hunger, but he _is_ Deceit, after all. Lying and putting on appearances is what he does best. 

“Hey, Dee,” Roman says after Deceit opens the door, narrow enough to block the view of the room just like he usually does. This time, it’s partially because of the tiredness though, and being able to lean on the door handle keeps him sturdier than if he doesn’t. Deceit offers a nod in return, deciding to save his energy for speaking only when he really needs to. “Movie night tonight. Wanna come?”

“Yeah, okay,” Deceit blurts out against his own will, completely demolishing any mental fortitude he’s built up in a weak resolve to decline the offer. With those two words, everything he’s been trying to accomplish for the past six excruciating days has been for nothing, and he’s right back to where he started. Just here with his unrequited love, at the mercy of two of the most amazing people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s such an idiot.

Perhaps it’s better than Deceit’s knees give out after Roman turns around to start walking back, because it gives him a moment to catch his breath. Steadying his body and readying himself to push through his weariness only takes a second, and by the time Roman glances back to check if he’s coming, Deceit looks just as put-together as he always does.

Because that’s the point, isn’t it? They can’t know about this or him, can’t know about how he lives or how he’s always sick in what’s supposed to be his safe space or how he can’t ever sleep because he’s plagued by nightmares or how he’s been doomed from the start of his existence to hate himself. They can’t know, can’t have the chance to pity him, because that means that Deceit has to be vulnerable enough to let them. He learned from his experience with Virgil, and he won’t make the same mistake again.

Roman and Logan’s continued presence in his life has acted as a buffer between Deceit and his depression, has given him respite from the constant terror and nausea and loneliness. Sure, this whole arrangement of theirs is really just putting off the inevitable time when they realize what Deceit’s doing, who he really is, and they’ll cast him away, but the happiness they bring him is too addicting for him to even consider letting it go. 

Deceit has lived his whole life hiding in the shadow of his function, struggling under the weight of his purpose, and that kind of oppression and repression gets so, so tiring. He’s never had a choice to be a good person from the start, formed as a villainous snake from Thomas’ preconceptions about lying and what it says about you as a person. In a way, evil and manipulative is what he’s meant to be, what he’s supposed to grow into, and the way he’s taking advantage of Roman and Logan to foster his own delusional fantasies and quell the burning itch of unrequited love with their touch just proves that.

But he’s not strong enough to properly confront that, to face the shame and guilt and consequences of his actions, so he continues on with the tangled web of pathetic lies and doesn’t say a word.

Deceit is lost in his thoughts the whole walk up to the light sides’ area, hyper-aware of Roman’s form beside him but not much else. The rise in temperature is drastic as they walk further and further upwards, something Deceit has always found fascinating, but there’s not really much to it beyond that. The dark sides’ area is cold because Thomas believes that they are evil and wrong, and he associates evil with the cold, so his mindscape naturally filled in the blanks. It spells out bad news for Deceit, since being part-snake means that he’s also cold-blooded, but he’s gotten used to being sick all the time by now.

Despite that, the heat is immediately comforting, soothing when he reaches the living room alongside Roman, but it’s nothing compared to the instant relief and relaxation he feels at even just the sight of Logan waiting there on the couch for them. It’s almost a perfect mirror of the first time and all of the times after it, with the logical side in his favoured unicorn onesie and a cup of coffee, looking small and soft and content. This version of Logan that’s unhindered by stress and responsibility is calming in and of itself, like a drug Deceit can never get enough of. It’s even more powerful to see after his realization, now that he can identify the feeling that rises in his chest as love.

“Glad you could join us, Dee,” Logan says through the steam coming off of his cup congenially, a smile pulling at his lips when Roman slings an arm around Deceit’s shoulders. The touch isn’t nearly as debilitating as the first few times he received it, but it still sends his body ticking with nervous energy, electricity crackling beneath the surface like a live wire. That feeling only strengthens when the two of them join Logan on the couch, shifting to cuddle up close to him, an easy familiarity in the way they wrap around each other without a second thought.

The domesticity of the moment is not lost on Deceit, and it only fills him with a greater love and happiness to be back here with them after so long spent down in his room hurt and alone. Roman giggles when Logan complains about them almost knocking his coffee out of his hands, spurring the bespectacled side to go off on a tangent about the dangers of hot liquids and something-degree burns. The scene is bathed in warmth, filtered through stained glass coloured unbearably sweet, and Deceit knows that this is exactly what he needs to wash the darkness of the past week away.

* * *

Things have been slowly getting easier over the past month or so. After Deceit’s six day long temper tantrum, the semi-daily visits resume as normal, falling back into that same relief Deceit felt the first time. They continue with their meet-ups, recalling both old activities and new ones. Along with the picnics under sunshine in the Imagination, the movie nights, and of course, the sex, there’s even more. They paint with Roman, laughing at each affronted gasp when someone flicks paint at another, beaming at the bright colours streaked on smooth skin and scales. They stargaze in the Imagination and go to aquariums with Logan, pointing out inconsistencies in the constellations Roman summons and listening to the endless information Logan relays about the exotic fish they see with endearment shining in their eyes. They bake pastries and crochet awful hats and scarves for Deceit, throwing balls of flour at one another like snowballs and poking fun at how Roman gets tangled in the yarn.

It’s like everything Deceit has ever dreamed of. It’s like having friends, people you can rely on, people who think about you. It’s like being accepted, being included in things, having your presence actually wanted by others. It’s like having a family, being cared about, being loved.

But that’s the problem. He _isn’t_ loved. Not in the same way he loves them, not even at all. Deceit loathes to attempt to label them as friends in fear that he’d be overstepping their boundaries, but they’re the closest Deceit’s ever come to having friends after Virgil. And considering how Virgil hates him now, how he left as soon as he got the chance, Deceit is more than wary to try to make Roman and Logan into something more. Something he could truly lose if he isn’t careful enough about it.

He keeps his mouth shut whenever he can to try and keep in the confessions just raring to burst from his mouth unannounced, but the secrets and lying is slowly taking a toll on him as time passes. It’s frustrating, too, because he’s the literal personification of _Deceit._ He should be okay with lying, should be _encouraging_ it-- but he isn’t. Rather than please him and satisfy his purpose, the lies make him sick to his stomach, unsettled in a way he’s never been before. Betraying the trust of the ones he loves has spawned one of the most acute, persistent aches in his chest he’s ever felt, and it hasn’t gone away since the beginning. It’s guilt, in a very raw, vulnerable form.

That guilt never ceases long enough to let him breathe.

Today, he stops breathing for a different reason.

They didn’t make any plans to do anything today, which is ironic considering the weight of the situation. Rather than attempt to venture out into the Imagination or find something to do in the mindscape, the three of them just retired to Roman’s room, content with lazing around for the rest of the day simply enjoying and basking in each other’s presence.

They reside in various places around Roman’s bedroom, settling into spots that change nearly every time they come hang out in here. This time, Deceit is on the bed, knees pulled up to his chest as he lays at an angle on the headboard. It isn’t particularly comfortable, but he doesn’t care to move around and change it. Logan is in the desk chair-- his preferred spot-- rolling a pen in between his sweater paw-clad fingers absentmindedly as he listens to Roman’s tirade. And said prince is sprawled out on the floor, full-on starfish mode pushing his limbs out to take up as much space as possible. 

“--and then I just gave him a Look, y’know? You know that look, right? The one you said makes my face look like Patton’s disapproving dad glare but more mean?” Roman asks with his neck craned to look up at Logan from where he’s laying sorrowfully on the floor. He’s drowning in his own favourite red Christmas sweater, despite it not even being close to Christmas. The logical side only gives him an unimpressed look through the glint of light on his glasses, one eyebrow pulled up as he nods once, placatingly. Roman doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Anyway, it didn’t even _affect_ him! Not even a flinch! Can you _believe_ that? After all of the shit I went through to get that necklace, he didn’t even have the courtesy to look intimidated by my bartering. I lost my _pants_ for those jewels! Honestly, the townspeople I made are so lifeless. What’s the point of going on a cool real-life RPG adventure if the NPCs are boring?”

“Mm. Yes, that is unfortunate. Perhaps you just need to try creating them again with more focus on personal autonomy,” Logan muses, flicking the pen back and forth between his fingers a few times before setting it back in the empty cup holder. All of the other writing utensils Roman uses are scattered around his room, so it’s not as if it makes much of a difference anyway, but Logan has always been intent on staying organized.

“Ugh, I guess,” Roman says, sighing dramatically. “At least I have my cute boyfriends here to cheer me up after _that_ disaster.”

Boyfriend. Boyfriend _s._

_What?_

Since when has Deceit constituted as their boyfriend? Since when has Roman started to think of him as their partner, their equal? Since when has he become more than just their obedient little fucktoy, the third body for them to use and have fun with before casting it aside without a second thought? How dare he say such a loaded word so carelessly, tease Deceit with the exact thing he yearns for in a tone that clearly states that it’s just a joke? How is he capable of such cruelty?

Ah, that’s right. Deceit is too much of a coward to tell them in the first place, so it’s not like Roman would know or care. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault.

“Boyfriends? Plural? As in Logan and… me?” Deceit laughs nervously, hiding his trembling, fidgety fingers within the confines of his hoodie pocket as he speaks up for the first time since they’ve all settled in for the evening. Roman sits up and looks over to him in sync with Logan, and both of their perplexed stares make Deceit feel like nothing more than an ant on the ground. “We’re not, like… together.”

“Huh? Of course we are! You’re my boys! What d’ya mean?” Roman asks, voice bouncy and light and nothing suiting for the bombshell he’s just dropped on the unsuspecting half-snake. Deceit splutters, unable to come up with much of a coherent reply for a long few moments as he sinks even further into the pillows below him.

“Wha-- _what?_ What are you talking about? You never-- since when?”

“I was under the impression that we have been dating for quite a while. Is that not the case?” Logan asks, head tilted and hair brushed back pristinely and hands clasped in his lap. He looks intimidating, and the juxtaposition in the domineering aura he exudes now compared to the soft, needy pliancy he displays during sex is giving Deceit whiplash.

“Wh- _What?”_ Deceit stumbles out around the painful lump in his throat, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “You-- You-- You _told me!_ You told me _at the beginning_ that this was-- this was supposed to be no strings attached! Why-- Why the hell would we be dating?!”

His words are pathetic, bathed in desperation and anger at himself and poorly concealed fear. Deceit shouldn’t have snapped at them like that, should have just shut up and never said anything. He would have been tormented by his feelings, but then at least he still would’ve had Roman and Logan, even if not in exactly the way he wants. Now he’ll have nothing again, just like before, just like when he was at risk to himself.

“Deceit… I thought-- I thought we told you? That wasn’t…” Roman tries in a miserable attempt to rectify the panic shown so clearly in Deceit’s demeanour, but his voice seems to fail him.

“Did we not make it clear that this relationship extended past just sexual relations? We made attempts to include you in other everyday activities and frivolous displays of affection. Was that not enough to understand our intentions?” Logan asks, stoic and neutral and unreadable as ever. Deceit hates how cold his tone is, how his inflection is dull and his expression falls flat. Not because his demeanour can easily be taken as uncaring, but because Deceit knows that his smooth, unfeeling conversing is only a result of hidden upset. Deceit looks away, not wanting to think about how closely he must have been observing the other side to already know him this well, to be able to see past the facade and look into the emotions he desperately represses in a bid to cast away the negativity he doesn’t want to face. It’s no wonder Logan is more expressive and vulnerable when he’s with Roman, when he’s with someone who makes him genuinely happy.

“Oh, Logan, my love, what’s wrong?” Roman asks, concern and love filling his voice thickly. Deceit looks up again to see Logan rubbing furiously at his eyes, face screwed up as he attempts to stave off the moisture building steadily on his lashes. Deceit can only watch helplessly as Roman gets up to hold Logan in his arms, can’t reassure him or say anything when Logan denies everything and tries to excuse away the onslaught of the very emotions he’s been trying so hard to suppress. Deceit wishes he could just sink into the ground and disappear. He made Logan cry. He made Logan _cry._ He’s just as awful as he thought he was, huh?

“I… I apologize for my outburst. It is unseemly of me to be acting so emotionally charged. If… If we are not enough for you, if you do not wish to be in a relationship with us, Deceit, then I would understand and respect your wishes, but I do not think I would be comfortable continuing our arrangement despite it. I’m sorry,” Logan manages, voice wobbly but clear. Roman’s influence on him is so palpable Deceit can almost feel it, the immense bravery Logan is showing by even acknowledging his tears at all, however self-deprecatingly that may be. Before Roman, Logan would never have allowed himself to cry in front of someone, or even really at all. Even though Deceit wants nothing more than to just go to sleep and never wake up after the events of today, he still is incredibly proud of the logical side’s progress.

“I… what? Not-- not _enough_ for me? Have you-- you two been p-paying any attention to me at _all?”_ Deceit stumbles out, voice strained, and he barely registers how that question could be taken as offensive. He doesn’t mean to insinuate that they’re stupid, because he doesn’t think that, but they must be somewhat oblivious to not have realized Deceit’s feelings. Although he’s tried his best to hide it, Deceit has never been good at denying himself the things he wants, as it goes directly against his purpose as a side. He’s been sure this whole time that they’ve known, that those odd looks and unreadable expressions have been a result of them figuring out just how awful he truly is, but now he doesn’t know _what_ to think.

“What?” Roman asks, hugging Logan tighter as if he’s bracing to be insulted. And that honestly breaks Deceit’s heart a little bit, because it means he really has been awful to them, awful enough that Roman thinks Deceit would somehow be stupid and cruel enough to ever _think_ badly of him, much less say it to his face.

“Of-- Of _course_ you’re enough for me, you’re-- you’re _too_ much for me. You two d-don’t deserve to be with someone like me. You’re too good and kind, and-- and I’d just drag you d-down, make you bad like I am. I-- I thought it was obvious that I… t-that I fell in love with y-you two. But I’m so-- _god,_ I’m such a shitty person, you told me no r-romantic feelings at the b-beginning and I still said yes anyway. I b-betrayed your trust and took advantage of you to-- to escape, so I’m… sorry. I’m so sorry,” Deceit chokes out around dry sobs, not a single tear having escaped his eyes throughout his confession. His body shakes violently, trembling like a leaf with his fear. This is it. They’re going to tell them they hate him, that he really is just a villain, that he should just go back to the cave he came from. He’s going to lose them. He’s going to _lose_ them.

“Escape?” Logan finally asks, honing in on the one thing Deceit let slip by accident. His voice is soft, quiet, nothing like the anger Deceit expected as a result of his painful moment of pure, rotten truth. The spores in his lungs finally have been cleared, infecting the air around them with disease and fear and secrets exposed, and nothing makes sense. Why aren’t they yelling at him? “Escape what?"

“Myself,” Deceit mumbles, word nothing more than a feather upon an air current, easily swept away into the deepest sound where it can never be found again. He feels like he’s drowning in it, drowning in the hate and the love and the unadulterated truth, everything he’s ever wanted to say packed into that one word as if he’s cracking the dam to release the flood. Nothing matters anymore. He doesn’t have anything, no secrets to hold close to his chest. No secrets to hold him together, either.

“Dee,” Roman stresses, voice breaking on the single syllable, and the two boyfriends get up to join him on the bed. Deceit is immediately tackled in a hug by Roman, punching the breath right out of him, but the prince’s arms tighten around him anyway as he wails. “How-- How could you _say_ that? You’re not bad! You’re lovely and amazing and sweet and incredible and you’re a godsend for putting up with me! You’re my sweetheart and I love you so much!”

“What?” Deceit croaks out, tears finally spilling over his lashes to drip into Roman’s fluffy hair. He makes eye contact with Logan over Roman’s head, of whom immediately breaks too as soon as their gazes meet. He’s not near as loud as Roman, more naturally inclined to tear up quietly, the only thing clueing you into his sorrow being his occasional small sniffles. Logan himself is small when he scoots over to hug Deceit too, joining the prince in clutching tightly onto the snake-like side as if they’re never going to let him go.

“You _are_ good, Deceit. _You are good enough,”_ Logan tells him, the importance of what he’s saying and what he believes in stressed so prominently in his tone and words. An even more intense sob rips its way out of Deceit’s lungs, vulnerability and fear in every single droplet on his cheeks. Those four words are the words Deceit has wanted to hear the most, has _needed_ to hear. He doesn’t know if he truly believes it, and he doesn’t think he will for a long time, but Logan and Roman are here now to remind him.

“Will you-- Can I-- Can I be your boyfriend?” Deceit asks, watery and thin, eyes swimming with tears. Roman pulls back enough to be able to look Deceit in the eyes but keeps his grip tight, showing him that he’s not going to leave him alone. The tears slowly begin to subside, exiting as quickly as they had come, leaving Deceit with nothing to show for it but frequent sniffles and reddened eyes.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of saying no,” Roman says around a weary laugh, not having expected such an emotional twist to their lazy day. The prince’s hands grip Deceit’s arms in a vice, likely with more power than he intends or realizes. That kind of mindless action fits him like a glove. Deceit doesn’t even care enough to pry his hands away or ask him to stop; it’s like the pain that would come with such treatment doesn’t even exist. 

“Of course you may, Dee,” Logan mumbles, voice muffled as he buries his head even further in the dark fabric of Deceit’s hoodie. He’s doing that thing again, the thing where he hides away in someone’s chest when he’s flustered, and Deceit almost chokes on the endearment that takes over his mind at that. Logan manages to wiggle his way underneath Roman’s arms to lay on top of Deceit, searching for a more comfortable position, and his glasses press against the scales underneath at blunt angles. The logical side sighs contentedly, breathing in Deceit’s scent in lieu of acknowledging Roman’s cooing and teasing.

Roman somehow manhandles them all into a much more comfortable position, with them all sandwiched together in the middle of the bed. Deceit has his arms draped over Logan’s waist, contrasting his black with the blue of Logan’s sweater. Roman lays behind Logan, acting as his big spoon with one leg thrown over the logical side’s hip. The prince pulls Deceit forward by his neck and knocks their foreheads together, giving him a soft, charged kiss before wrapping his arms around his head to cradle him protectively. They all fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces coming together to make a final picture. He’s finally found a way to snap right into place, right where he should be.

Deceit breathes out, falling into that aching, lasting love all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments aren't required, but they are very much appreciated! constructive criticism is always very welcome~


End file.
